


Smoke Jumper

by Nikolaus_Chaser



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Destiel NSFW, Firefighter Dean, First Kiss, Injured Dean, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Major Character Injury, Nymph Castiel, Threesomes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolaus_Chaser/pseuds/Nikolaus_Chaser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean Winchester's parachute fails to deploy in the middle of a raging forest fire, he prepares for death.  What he never expects is for his life to be saved by a creature he didn't even know existed until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Birds learn to Fly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SillyBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/gifts), [Shotgunpicksthemusic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotgunpicksthemusic/gifts).



> [Follow my blog.](https://smack-that-assbutt.tumblr.com/)

Of all the things to be fearful of in his line of work, Dean Winchester was scared of flying. Honestly, one would think that somebody who parachutes into two-thousand plus degree wildfires on a regular basis wouldn’t be scared of something so… Well, his little brother Sammy would call it a trivial fear.  He would probably break off into some rant about aerodynamics and lift, and how the chances of the plane crashing were slim to none– but what did he know anyway?  He was just a seventeen-year-old kid who hadn’t been on a plane since their family took a trip to Disney Land when he was five.  Besides, Dean would be too busy hyperventilating to hear anything he was ranting about anyway.

Like now.  He was _supposed_ to be debriefing with the foreman and the rest of his team about the uncontrollable wildfire they were about to parachute into, but instead he was sitting in the back of the plane’s cabin puffing into a paper bag and trying not to hurl every time they hit a little bit of turbulence.

“Y’okay, brother?” Benny drawled by his side, knocking their shoulders together and handing Dean his parachute pack.  He did his best to nod while still breathing into the paper bag, taking the pack roughly and slinging it over his shoulders.  He started to buckle himself in mindlessly, having memorized the routine after years of being a smokejumper.

“Never seen a blaze like this before,” Benny noted almost conversationally, and Dean glanced over at his friend who was peering out the window of the plane, his face illuminated with orange light from the fire below them, even from this high elevation.  They were flying over Ouachita National Forest in Arkansas, an estimated seven minutes away from their jump zone.  The cabin was bustling with activity, all of the men preparing themselves for the jump and strapping on their heavy equipment.  As he forced himself to his feet unsteadily and began to prepare as well, Dean couldn’t decide if he was more nervous about jumping into the flames or more excited to finally get off of the plane.

They hit another pocket of turbulence, sending half of the men in the cabin (including Dean) toppling into each other, and he decided that it was the latter statement that was true.

“Winchester, Lafitte, you two are going down first,” their foreman commanded, ushering the two of them forward so that they were standing right near the plane’s door.  Hot air from below blew in Dean’s face and he squinted against the wind, adjusting his oxygen mask to make it tighter.  The foreman gave him a skeptical look.  “You alright there, Dean?”

He grinned back.  “Never been better, Bobby.”

The older man snorted, shaking his head and reaching out to clap Dean on the shoulder.  “Alright, ya idgit.  Be safe down there,” he said, then turned away from Dean, addressing all of the men.  “All of you.  This is a big blaze, but it isn’t anything you all can’t handle.  You’re the best of the best for a reason.”

There was a loud chorus of ‘yes sir’s, and then with one last glance at the plane’s radar, Bobby was nudging Dean and Benny closer to the edge of the plane.  “Whenever you boys are ready,” he shouted.  Dean nodded, turning to Benny and giving his best impression of a confident smile. 

“You done your check of threes, brother?” He asked.  Benny grinned back at him and nodded.

“Got my straps, my handles and my cords all in order.  Only one thing left to do!” he shouted back, and with a loud _WHOOP!_ he dove right out of the plane, disappearing into a cloud of smoke almost as soon as he stepped off the side.  Dean watched him go; watched him fall away into the clouds, and after only a moment’s hesitation he joined him, soaring through the sky and down towards the blaze that had become of the Ouachita Forest.

Billows of gray and white smoke immediately clouded his vision, and for what was not the first time in his life Dean was grateful for his oxygen mask.  If he didn’t have it right now he would probably be dead already from suffocation, the air was so heavy with it.

He counted the seconds as he fell, heart pounding rapidly in his chest as wind whistling in his ears.  It never ceased to amaze him, the things that he found himself thinking during these times.  Of all of the things to think about during freefall, when your body and sometimes even your mind could trick you into believing you were dying, Dean always chose to think of the oddest things.  For instance, today, it was math.  How his mass, combined with the height of his jump, could affect his velocity and therefore the speed of his inevitable impact with the earth below.

He supposed that in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t the oddest subject to think about while you were falling.  When you knew that you were plummeting towards the earth, it was only instinctual for one’s brain to conjure up survival techniques.  Of course, the silly thing about it all was that Bobby had already told them how many seconds they each needed to wait before deploying their parachute, so there was really nothing for Dean to worry about in that aspect.  He probably would have been better off thinking of something entirely random, like Greek Mythology or maybe even Busty Asian Beauties (the porno magazine he kept on high supply under his mattress back home).  At least he could probably get some _entertainment_ thinking about those things.

From a thirteen-thousand-foot drop, which had been the elevation of the plane, and with Dean weighing in at 175 pounds, he was free falling at approximately 500 meters per second.  This gave him twenty seconds to wait until he deployed his parachute at 2500 feet, from which point he would safely float down to the ground and spring into action.  So he waited his twenty seconds, and then with expert movements he reached behind himself to pull the cord on his parachute.  He yanked hard, jerking his elbow forward and–

Nothing happened.

 _Shit.  Shit shit shit_.  Dean’s blood rushed in his ears as he continued to fall fast towards the earth, the deployment cord of his parachute held aloft in his hand.  He tried yanking it again, because he must have done it wrong– he _must_ have– his parachute wouldn’t just fail on him like that.  His hands flew to his back, reaching blindly for something, anything that could be wrong.

_I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna–_

Dean grunted as he dislodged the front end of the cord from where it had become wedged between two separate straps, yanking the rope with all of his might and gasping with relief when the parachute finally deployed, lifting him up into the smoky air and slowing his decline significantly.

But he was still too low, he knew, even without being able to see the earth through the cloud of smoke.  At least three or four seconds had passed in the time it took for him to dislodge the cord from where it had been stuck, and even with his tarp billowing behind him he would be moving too fast once he reached the ground to land safely.

 _At least I’m alive_.

Dean guided the parachute ropes off course and to the left, towards where he thought there might be a clearing (or, at least, towards where there appeared to be a smaller number of flames) and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for impact.  It came mere seconds later– a bit faster than Dean had been expecting it, if he was being honest– and with the painful _crunch_ or his left leg bending awkwardly beneath him.  He screamed into his oxygen mask, pain blinding his vision momentarily, as his parachute continued to drag him along the ground for an indiscernible amount of time. 

“Oh God, fuck, fuck, mother _fuck_ –!” Dean screamed, head thrown back and tears blurring his vision as his mangled leg scraped against the charred earth beneath him, pain throbbing in places he honestly never knew could hurt so much.  By the time he finally stopped moving, his parachute giving up on the nonexistent wind and falling into a heap of fabric someplace behind him, he found himself lying in the middle of a clearing surrounded by charred oaks and blazing treetops.  He groaned in pain, shifting, digging in the pocket of his suit for his radio.

Chest heaving, Dean yanked the small radio from his pants pocket and began to fumble awkwardly with the dials, tuning into the frequency he knew he would find his teammates on.  Then he pressed his record button, checking in and sending a distress signal.

But all that greeted his message was a static reply, and though Dean was sure his transmission had gone through, he wasn’t entirely sure if the smoke and fire surrounding him weren’t interfering with the radio waves.  The smokejumpers’ equipment was supposed to be resistant to that kind of interference, but Dean had heard of malfunctions before.  Heard horror stories before.  He moaned pitifully, dropping his radio onto the floor beside him and clutching at his left leg as a sudden pain shot through his limb.  One look down at himself told him why; his bone protruded gruesomely from the flesh, blood spilling out onto the ground beneath him, and it occurred to Dean with morbid realization that he was going to bleed out soon if he didn’t get any help.

 _When did it become so hard to breathe_?

His radio continued to buzz uselessly beside him as Dean lay there, his body aching and heart pounding rapidly in his chest.  With each beat of his heart, he knew, more blood was being pumped towards his wound and bled out onto the ground.  Suddenly he was reminded of the math problem he’d been thinking of on his freefall towards the ground, and he wondered just how long he had before he would run out of blood.

_An hour?  Two?  Or would be here for days; starving, bleeding out so slowly…_

Dean had never realized before how freaking hot it was in the middle of a forest fire.  His suit was sticking to his sweaty skin now, and as he looked around, he saw that the blaze had grown thicker around him.  He was surrounded by a literal wall of fire, and the only tree surviving appeared to be a tall oak tree standing proudly a few feet away.  He grunted as he moved towards it, happy to find something to lean against, somewhere to sit and try to relax as he perished.

His mind jumped to thoughts of his brother, and he felt fresh tears in his eyes as he imagined what Sam was doing at that instant.  Sam, so young and with such a bright future ahead of him, applying to colleges already and destined for Stanford.  The kid wanted to be a lawyer in the army; wanted to do ROTC at college and go into the JAG Core.  Dean had been helping him study for the ASVAB merely a few days ago.

What would he say if he saw Dean now?  What would he say at his funeral? Would he cry over his corpse?  Would there even be a corpse for him to cry over? 

The heat was incessant now, and it felt like he was being burned even through his fire retardant suit.  His leg throbbed, exposed wound seeming to sizzle in the heat.  He wasn’t even being touched by fire and he was already burning alive. 

_Oh, what a painful way to die._

With nimble fingers Dean reached up, feeling the heat against his rosy cheeks.  If he was going to die, he decided, he wasn’t going to let himself suffer through it.  He was going to make it happen quickly, or at least make himself fall unconscious for it, so that the worst of the pain he wouldn’t be able to feel.  He may have been a self-hating bastard sometimes, but even he knew that he didn’t deserve to die a slow and painful death.  Not after all the good he had done the world.

The oxygen mask slipped off of his face easier than he had thought that it would, falling away without a fight and hanging limply around his neck.  _Like me_ , he thought, and on his next inhale he choked, lungs flooding with thick, disgusting smoke.  He hacked, coughing with every breath, his lungs unable to filter the soot and ash from the air. 

The arms of death were locked around his neck in a visceral choke hold, holding him underwater in a pit of molten lava.  He was burning, choking, falling… he hit the forest floor with a soft thud, clutching his hands to his chest.  Where had the tree he was leaning on gone?  Had it moved away?  Dean laughed ludicrously around a lungful of smoky air, his foggy mind conjuring up an image of the Ents from Lord of the Rings, and Dean thought that it was a pleasant thought to have just before death.

His eyes slipped closed just as strong arms lifted him up from the forest floor, and Dean imagined that this probably wasn’t the worst way for a smokejumper to go out.


	2. J.R.R. Tolkien was serious, Apparently

“You should try not to move,” a deep, rough voice commanded Dean from somewhere he was sure was very far away, and the man’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.  Was that God?  Did God’s voice really sound so sexy?

There was a low chuckle off to the side somewhere, and now Dean really wanted to open his eyes and see where he was, but he found that he couldn’t.  His eyes were swollen shut and coated in some sort of sticky substance… Was that tree sap?  Dean moved his arms sluggishly, reaching up to touch his face and confirm that _yes_ , his eyelids were covered in tree sap.  But why?

“Pine Tree sap has been heralded for centuries for its health benefits on vision strength and wound closure.  The heat from the fire seems to have irritated your eyelids and caused them to swell up, so I applied a salve that I knew would help your body recover.  Here,” he felt a cool, damp rag being pressed into his hands.  “I believe you can remove it now, if you wish.”

The cloth was surprisingly soft against his skin, though it did take a bit of rubbing to get the sap completely off his eyes, and by the time he was done his face felt pretty raw.  But he could open his eyes again, at least, so Dean figured that was something.  At least now he would be able to take a look at his mystery caretaker/kidnapper/whatever.

“What the hell,” Dean gasped, the first words he’d spoken since waking up, as he took in the sight of the man– if that was what you could call the thing– before him.  He stood at a towering 6’3”, just as tall as Dean’s little brother Sammy but much more menacing in his appearing.  The lower half of his body was naked as far as Dean could hazard a guess, but it was impossible to tell when the entire lower half of the man’s body was a freaking _tree_.  His long, muscular legs ( _trunks,_ Dean thought, _oh my God_ ) were made up of some sort of thick, rough looking bark and covered in some places by thin films of moss.  His torso and chest appeared to be naked as well, nothing but a smooth expanse of tan, unblemished skin at first glance.  But upon further inspection Dean noticed that the man was actually covered in thin, intricate vines, crawling around his thighs and then up his back, only to weave around the neck and down around his muscular arms.  Tiny flowers blossomed along the strands, pink and blue petals dotting his flesh like human freckles.

A puzzled look crossed the man’s– _thing’s_ – face and he tilted his head to the side curiously, tussled black hair falling to one side to reveal his pointed, elf-like ears.  Dean’s mouth fell open in horror and he scrambled, crying out in agony when his futile attempt to get away from the creature did nothing but send a shock of pain through his leg and up his spine.

“You cannot move, human, or you will hurt yourself further,” the thing instructed, stepping forward and reaching out with his vine covered arm to touch Dean’s side.  He jerked, swatting at its hand and pressing himself further away from it, despite the pain.

“Get a– don’t _touch me_ ,” he hissed, heart pounding in his chest.  Panic seized him, and he fought back a wave of nausea as he frantically searched for an exit from the small room they were cramped together in.  For the first time, Dean began to survey his surroundings, and he quickly realized that he was in some sort of cottage home.  And, judging by the lack of windows and the smell of soil and earth all around them, they were underground.

“I will not touch you,” the creature said, slowly backing away from Dean and raising his hands up in the air, as if surrendering to a police officer.  But really, the action only made him appear larger than he already was, and Dean shrunk back again in fear.  He dropped his hands, still moving away.  “But still, you mustn’t move.  Your leg has been broken very badly, and you are covered in terrible burns.  If you move, you may hurt yourself even more.”

“Oh, so what, I’m supposed to just lay here?” Dean snarled, still looking around frantically for a way he might be able to escape from this place without being captured by this tree monster.  “Why, so you can eat me?”

The creature’s eyebrows furrowed.  “Dryads do not eat humans,” he said slowly, turning away from Dean and stepping towards a small stone table.  He picked up a small bushel of what appeared to be berries, though Dean wasn’t familiar with what type, and held them out towards Dean.  “We eat plants, and the occasional small animal.  Though I must confess that I am not the most skilled hunter, so I tend to stay on a vegetarian diet.”

Dean swallowed thickly.  “Dryad?” He whispered, wracking his brain for the reason that the name sounded familiar.  “Like… like wood elves?  Like The fucking _Hobbit_?”

He frowned, his face twisted in confusion and his head tilting to the side.  “I do not know what a _hobbit_ is.  I am technically a wood nymph, not an elf.  My ancestors derive from Ancient Greek mythology,” he paused, eyebrows scrunched together thoughtfully.  “Though ‘mythology’ probably isn’t the most accurate terminology.”

Dean’s brain was whirring at a million miles per hour.  If this guy was a wood elf– or _nymph_ , as he had so politely pointed out– then did that mean that all of the trees in the forest were wood nymphs?  And if so, how come Dean had never met one before now?  He’d been in dozens and dozens of forests in the past four years that he’d been a smokejumper, and never once had he encountered any such creature as a _wood nymph._ For fuck’s sake, they were just fairy tale creatures! Imaginary things that fantasy authors had dreamed up and written fanciful stories about… There was no truth to any of that shit.  Next thing, this guy was going to try and convince him that Santa Clause and the Tooth Fairy were real, as well.

 _But the Greeks thought they were real_.

Still, if they were real, how come Dean had never seen one before?  How come _nobody_ had ever seen one before?  Unless they could somehow disguise themselves as real trees, comepletely, there was no way that they could actually exist…  But then…

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed, looking up at the nymph with wide eyes.  “That tree.  That oak that I leaned against, was that–”

He stopped mid-sentence when the nymph began to nod at his question, and then he was leaning over the side of the cot he was laying on and puking all over the floor.  He groaned pitifully and flopped over once he was done, covering his red face with his hands and rocking back and forth.

“This is _not_ real, this is _not real._ I am _dead_ , I’m dead and I must be dreaming.  This must be _purgatory_ , there’s no way that this is _real_ …”

“Oh, I assure you,” the nymph interrupted his monologue, now kneeling beside the bed and cleaning up the mess he had made.  “You _and_ your vomit are both very real.”

“Ugh, shut up,” Dean snapped, turning away and hiding his face.  He heard a quiet, almost exasperated huff someplace behind him, but he tuned it out.  He didn’t need to deal with this fairy tale bullshit.  Especially not now, when his head was throbbing and his back was aching and his leg was on fucking fire.

He knew, logically, that if he could feel pain then it meant that he wasn’t dead.  But if he wasn’t dead… Then that would mean that all of this was real.  He could always be hallucinating, or course, but this seemed much too vivid to be a hallucination or a dream.  So… Yeah, it was probably going to be easier to pretend that he was dead and this was just some sort of weird-ass, fairytale version of purgatory. 

Except that it wasn’t. This was real.  He was actually sitting here in this… wherever the fuck he was; this little stone cottage that was filled with plants and vines, some growing on the walls and disappearing through the ceiling.  There was a small fire flickering on the other side of the cottage, keeping the space warm and heating what looked like a pan or pot of some sort.  And he was sharing this tiny space with some kind of wood nymph who had saved his life.  A real, honest-to-God wood nymph. 

Sammy would probably have a cow if he knew.

“My name is Dean,” he finally muttered, filling in the silence that had fallen between them as he rolled back over, looking up at the towering wood nymph and offering his best impression of a confident smile.  “Dean Winchester.”

He smiled back, much more genuinely than Dean had, and extended his hand for Dean to take.  Even his fingers were covered in vines, his wrists blossoming with bright dogwood and magnolia flowers, as if a corsage were embedded in his skin.  Dean took it tentatively, careful not to crush any petals as he shook the nymph’s hand.

“My name is Castiel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Let's Play Doctor, Castiel

“Oh, holy fuck.”

Pain radiated from Dean’s broken leg, shooting up from his toes and all the way up his spine.  His leg was burning, and when he tried to move it he couldn’t even tell if he had.  Did he even have a left leg anymore?  Had he lost it in the fire?  Was he even alive? Or had he died?

A tremor passed through his body and he began to shiver, uncontrollably, and he decided that he probably wasn’t dead.  Nobody who was dead could ever feel this much pain.  He finally managed to pry his eyes open, blinking in the sudden light, and was positively overwhelmed by the color blue. His breath hitched and her jerked sideway, staring with wide eyes up at the half man-half tree standing before him, and grunting in pain when the movement jostled his leg. 

“You mustn’t move, Dean,” Castiel scolded gently, holding him down to his soft bed by the shoulders.  Dean’s throat felt tight suddenly, but he managed to shake his head, muttering.

“I thought… Fuck, I thought I dreamed you,” he whispered.  Castiel offered him a small, slightly amused smile as he reached forward, dabbing at Dean’s forehead with something cool and wet.  It only took a few seconds for Dean to realize that it was a washcloth, and that it felt _really_ good.  Like… if Castiel stopped what he was doing at that exact moment, he was pretty sure he was going to actually die.  It felt so good; like he was a forest fire and Cas was putting _him_ out.

“You are running a fever.  I’ve prepared some Echinacea Root for you to drink, but I am not certain how much it will help.  I am not as familiar with the human anatomy as I would like to be.”

Dean swallowed, letting his eyes flutter closed and shaking his head.  He jostled the towel when he did so and it slid off of his forehead, but Castiel was quick to replace it where it had been.  “It’s m’leg,” he muttered, squirming under Castiel’s light touch.  The nymph pulled away quickly, allowing Dean to adjust himself as the young man continued to speak.  “Open wounds get infected.  Causes fevers and all sorts of crap,” he grunted, shuffling a bit more so that he could prop himself up.  Eventually he had himself sitting up, back pressed up against the wall of Castiel’s cottage, cheek resting against the cool stone.  Then he reached down, jerking his leg forward by the thigh and letting out a hoarse cry.  Castiel shifted beside him, obviously upset by the pained noise, but didn’t make any move to stop Dean from what he was doing.

“I’ve got to… To get the bone set back in.  See here, it’s sticking out.  Breaking the skin,” he pointed towards his calf, a jagged piece of bone sticking out from a large cut there.  He looked up at Cas, chewing nervously at his bottom lip.  “Once the bone is set back in, the skin needs to be stitched up too.  Set in a splint.  But until then…”

“It will stay infected?” Castiel guessed, a frown creasing the lines of his face.  It made his nose scrunch up and his eyes crinkle at the corners, and Dean found that he had to stop himself from thinking of Cas as adorable.  He was a fucking tree, after all.  _Trees_ were not something that you could ever really classify as adorable.

Then again, most trees didn’t have arms and legs and voices like sex on sandpaper.

“Yeah,” he answered, swallowing thickly and looking back down at his leg.  The wound was covered in dried blood and dirt and soot from the forest fire he had been in just a day earlier, and he could see the places where Castiel must have tried to clean the wound.  He hadn’t done the best job, but it didn’t look like he had done any damage either, so it was fine.  There was tree sap everywhere, too, making the whole wound sticky on top of bloody and painful.  “If you’ve got an infection and you don’t treat it, it can get pretty bad. You could die, eventually.”

“Oh,” Castiel breathed, his face flushing.  He swallowed thickly, almost as if nervous.  “I didn’t… That is not how it is for nymphs.  When we become injured or sick, it only takes us several hours to heal.  And we live for hundreds of years.”

“Heh,” Dean’s lips quirked up at the corners, as if he were amused by some sort of inside joke with himself.  “Kinda like trees, right?”

Castiel nodded back at Dean distractedly, his eyes trained on Dean’s wound.  He looked distraught.  “I hope that I did not make this… infection any worse.  When I applied the pine sap.  I only hoped to help.”

Dean waved him off.  “Nah man, don’t worry.  If anything, the sap did help.  Though I’m pretty sure it didn’t really do nothin’,” he chuckled, then leaned forward over his own body and pressed at the skin around his wound.  Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he let his hands fall back down to the bed.  He was silent for a few seconds, mind racing before he looked up at the nymph sitting beside him hopefully. “Do you know where we are, Cas?”

He frowned, eyebrows furrowed.  “I don’t understand what you mean.  We are in my home,” he paused, lips pursed as he looked around the small cottage.  “Are you referring to the surrounding wood?” He asked.  Dean nodded and Castiel continued, “I have come to understand that your kind refers to this are as the Ouachita Forest.  The name comes from the language of the Caddo Indians.  They deemed this area to be good hunting grounds; they were not wrong,” he paused, a fond smile spreading on his face.  “They were a very kind people.  We often traded berries and roots with each other.  They were much friendlier and acceptant than their neighbors, the Chickasaw.  It was a very bad day, when the Chickasaw came and conquered the Caddo.  They enslaved them, too.  It was terrible.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he listened to Castiel speak.  He wasn’t entirely sure what the nymph was talking about anymore, his mind foggy with fever, but he was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear a history lesson about some stupid Indian Tribe that died a million-and-one years ago from this strange wood nymph.  Even if he did meet them in person (which he had to admit was pretty damn cool, and once again Dean was pretty sure that if Sammy was here with him his little brother just might lose his shit), he had more pressing matters at hand to deal with. 

“Dude, please.  Can we focus?” He snapped.  Castiel’s blue eyes shifted towards Dean again and he frowned, squinting at him suspiciously.

“The Caddo were a brave and enduring people, Dean.  Their oppression and enslavement is not something that should be so easily forgotten.”

His gaze was cold and intimidating, and Dean withered under it, swallowing thickly and nodding. “Right.  I’m sorry.  I just… I need to find my team,” he said softly.  “I’m a firefighter, y’know?  A smokejumper.  That’s why I crash landed here in the first place, and I need to get back and find my team.  They’re probably looking for me.”

Castiel nodded, carefully, shifting in his seat a little and wringing his hands.  “I see.  Well, after you fell unconscious in the fire, I carried you quite a distance back here.  It’s a several mile hike back to the area I found you in.” His eyes flickered towards dean’s injured leg, his expression darkening.  “I’m afraid that I did not see anybody else in the wood on my way back here.  Human hikers and trailblazers do not typically come out this way.  That is why I was so surprised to find you.”

Dean licked his lips carefully, his eyes flickering over Castiel’s face curiously.  He spoke slowly, “Yeah, well, that was a pretty bad blaze out there.  Why were you hanging out in the middle of the fire, anyway?  You could have gotten hurt.”

Castiel’s eyes flashed brightly, and he paused for a moment before speaking.  “I was not in as much danger as you think.  I am a magical creature, after all,” it looked like he was trying not to smirk as he spoke.  “My structural integrity is not as weak as that of a human.”

Dean bit his lips, nodding slowly.  He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that.  He wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to anything this guy said, really. “Right… Well, in any case, do you happen to know where the nearest ranger station or campsite is?”

Castiel frowned.  “I think you have misunderstood me, Dean.  When I said that I do not normally see hikers in this area, I was being quite serious.  You are the first human being I have seen in this part in years.”  A troubled look crossed his face and he glanced towards the door, then back at Dean.  “There are no campsites or ‘ranger stations’ for many miles of this place. I would not even know where to start looking for one.”

Dean stared up at Castiel, his mouth slightly agape.  “You’re serious,” he said, then huffed, looking down at his lap and shaking his head in disbelief.  His leg throbbed, and he let his eyes slip closed to prevent them from tearing up.  Finally after several long moments, he let out a heavy sigh.  “Okay, then.  I need you to do me a favor, Cas.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to go back into the forest, where you found me.  There should be a backpack there… It’s got all my supplies in it.  I’ve got a med kit stashed in there somewhere.  If you can get it to me… I think I might be able to fix up my leg myself.” He swallowed thickly, clenching his teeth. “If there ain’t a ranger station nearby enough to get me there, we’re gonna have to do it ourselves.”

“Or you will die?” Castiel asked it as a question, but it hung heavily in the air as a fact.  Dean swallowed thickly.

“Uh… Yeah.  I guess.”

Castiel nodded curtly, his features darkening intently.  He gestured towards a small, wooden cup sitting on a table beside Dean’s cot.  He had hardly even noticed it there before.

“You should drink your tea before it cools.  It will help your fever.”

The nymph stood abruptly, his huge stature overwhelming Dean and stealing the breath from his lungs.  Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, taking in the determined look on his face.  He looked back down at Dean gently, reaching out to grasp Dean’s shoulder.  The skin there warmed, and a sudden calm overtook him as Castiel spoke.

“I will not fail you, Dean Winchester.”

No sooner had he spoken than he disappeared into thin air, and Dean had to blink hard, wondering if he had just imagined Castiel’s sudden disapparation.  But sure enough, like everything he thought he might have imagined in the past few days, Castiel’s disappearance into thin air seemed authentic.  He was alone in the cottage now, after all.

It was only after Castiel had been gone for ten minutes or so, and Dean had taken up the cool towel in his hands again, that he realized Castiel couldn’t have known he was feverish unless he had been watching over him while he slept.

Castiel was gone for several hours, during which Dean occupied himself mostly by staring at the wall and thinking about his current predicament.  He couldn’t exactly move around at all, what with his broken leg, and he knew that it put him at quite a disadvantage.  He still didn’t trust Castiel entirely (which was why the tea on Dean’s bedside table still sat untouched nearly two hours after Castiel had poured it for him) and he knew that if the creature suddenly decided to attack him, he would be pretty much helpless.  He would be at the thing’s mercy.  A sudden wave of fear and anxiety washed over Dean and he scrambled, patting at his pockets to find the switch blade he usually kept there for emergencies.  It only took a few seconds for him to find it, and when he took it into his hands he regarded it carefully for a few long moments before he hid it back in his pocket.

If Castiel attacked him, at least he’d be able to defend himself.  At least he could _try_.

His leg was going numb.  Dean wasn’t sure if that was a bad thing or not; he couldn’t seem to recall very well the information he had learned about injuries and first aid during his training course.  Of course, he couldn’t imagine that it necessarily meant anything great.

He missed Sam, he suddenly realized.  His eyes fluttered closed in an attempt to keep the tears from falling, and a mental image of his little brother popped into his mind.  The way he smiled when he was happy, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed at whatever stupid joke Dean had just made.  The way he scowled whenever Dean pranked him, or whined at him when he made the kid listen to the same music in the car every day.  He desperately missed his boyfriend Donny, who he hadn’t even been seeing that long and probably didn’t have any real future with anyway.  His house; his warm bed and his TV.  He missed his coworkers; his squad mate Benny and the foreman Bobby.  He wondered if the guys had even looked for him.  He wondered if they were worried about him.

 _They probably think I’m dead_. 

The thought made Dean’s heart clench, and he wondered if anybody was looking for him at that moment.  As far as he could tell, it had already been more than 48 hours that he had been missing for.  If the police were involved in a search for him in the woods, they would already have given up hope by now.  He knew that most cops gave up all hope after the first 48 hours.  The thought made him shiver, hard.  He was probably going to be stuck here forever.

He was probably going to die here.

“Dean,” Castiel’s rough voice called from beside him, and he felt leaves brushing his cheek as Castiel rested a cool hand against his forehead.  He huffed, sluggishly lifting his arm up and batting the hand away.  His eyes fluttered open a moment later, vision blurry for a few moments before he focused in on Castiel’s worried face.  “Your fever has gotten worse,” he noted, then lifted a dark blue, heavy canvas bag from the floor beside the cot and placed it next to Dean.  “I retrieved your bag.  It sustained minimal damage in the fire, but I believe most of its contents are undamaged.  Would you like for me to open it for you?”

Dean swallowed thickly, shaking his head and shuffling forward a little bit.  “I… I c’n do it.  Need to get the med kit.  S’in the bottom somewhere,” he mumbled.  Castiel frowned, obviously concerned, but he leaned away when Dean moved forward, allowing the young man some space.  He unzipped the bag with shaky fingers, fumbling through the spare clothes, digging tools, and emergency survival items before he reached his med kit.  He grabbed ahold of the box and pulled it free, setting it down in his lap and pushing the rest of the bag to the side.  Castiel hefted it back onto the floor for him, leaning close and peering curiously over Dean’s shoulder as he unlatched the box and started to rifle through the items inside.

“Gonna need your help with this,” Dean grunted as he removed some gauze wrap, tape, and a miniature stitching kit. Castiel nodded eagerly, moving even closer to the cot and reaching out with long, deft fingers to pick up the tape.

“Yes, of course.  What do you need me to do?”

“My, ah… The bone,” Dean mumbled, gesturing towards the wound on his leg.  “It needs to be shoved back into the wound so I can set my leg.  But I can’t… I’m not gonna be able to do it myself,” he swallowed, looking up at Cas with wide eyes.  “I’m gonna need you to do it for me.”

Castiel nodded obediently.  “Of course.  Is that all?”

Dean bit his lips, shaking his head. “Yeah, it should be.  Once you set the bone in place, I can stitch my leg up myself.”

“How will you do that?” The nymph asked.  Dean picked up the stitching kit, shaking the small box and listening to the materials inside jingle. 

“I sew the skin back together.  Now… Uh, it’s gonna hurt a lot,” he swallowed, biting his lips.  “I’m probably going to scream.  You shouldn’t stop because of that.  I might… I might die, even.  The pain could make me go into shock or something and I might not…,” he stopped talking at that, tears filling his eyes.  He cleared his throat.  “If I die, just… I mean, I’m not entirely certain if this all is even really real.  But if it is, please… Well, thank you.  For your help, with all of this stuff.  Taking care of me and all.”

Castiel nodded, reaching out and squeezing Dean’s shoulder.  “Of course, Dean Winchester.  From the moment that I saw your soul suffering in the forest, I knew that I needed to protect you.  If you do pass, I will be sure to give you an honorable burial.”

Dean stared up at Castiel in shock, eyes wide, unable to fathom an appropriate response.  Finally, he cleared his throat and looked away from Cas as he handed him the med kit.

“C’mon, man.  Let’s get this show on the road.”

The nymph nodded solemnly, scooting onto the small cot and leaning over Dean’s body.  He was warm, radiating heat where he sat pressed up against Dean’s body, and he let the warmth comfort him.  It was probably all the comfort he was going to get at this point, and his breath hitched when he felt Castiel’s vined fingers pressing against the mangled and charred skin of his leg.  The flesh was raw where it wasn’t broken, scratched up and burned from where his fire retardant pants had torn.  He whimpered in pain and Castiel stopped, looking up at Dean’s face with concern.  The man shook his head.

“You gotta do it, Cas.  Just do it,” he grunted, then grabbed onto one of the spare rolls of gauze wrap from the med kit, shoving it into his mouth and biting down.  “C’m’n,” his voice was muffled through the gag as he reached out and knocked Castiel in the arm. 

“I’m just trying to be careful,” Castiel admonished, and a moment later his hands were on Dean again, moving his around until it was easily within his reach.  Then, in one fluid motion Castiel reached out and took hold of the broken end of the bone, pressing it down and back into Dean’s body.  It was a tight fit, and Castiel had to be careful not to jerk his hands or touch something that he knew he shouldn’t, but altogether it only took about a minute to set the bone in its correct place again.  Dean screamed through most of it, tears leaking from his eyes on their own accord only to be sopped up by the ball of gauze clenched between his teeth.  His body seized and jerked against Castiel’s ministrations, but the nymph was stronger.  He was able to hold Dean down, manipulating the bone until it fit back where he thought it belonged.

The wound was bleeding freshly now, but it was nothing he hadn’t expected.  Though it had been hundreds of years since he’d last had contact with human beings, he knew that their bodies could be fragile things.  The smallest abrasion could make them bleed or cry out in pain, and with an injury as severe as this one, Castiel knew from the get-go that there was bound to be a lot of blood.  He reached out and wiped some of the blood away with his bare hands, stabilizing Dean’s leg when his body began to seize again.

It was only then that Castiel realized how quiet Dean had fallen, and he looked over in concern to see that Dean was now unconscious, his head hanging back limply against the soft fabric of the cot.  He frowned as he took in all of Dean’s features; his face screwed up in pain and chest rising and falling rapidly with every short, wheezing breath that he took.  He reached out and plucked the gauze from Dean’s mouth, hoping to clear his passageways and make breathing easier for the human, but it hardly seemed to help.  He knew that something was definitely wrong ( _or perhaps_ , he realized with a pang of nervous guilt, _I have done something wrong_ ) and he reached out with a blood soaked hand to feel Dean’s neck, searching for a pulse point.  The skin there was damp and sticky, and his pulse was barely noticeable beneath Castiel’s fingers.

“Dean?” He asked, voice hoarse.  He could tell that Dean was alive, surely; his body was moving and he was breathing.  But his eyes were closed and he was still trembling, his body was cold and he couldn’t seem to breathe right.  Something was definitely wrong; what is what, Castiel did not know.  He had done everything correctly as far as he could tell, and now Dean was supposed to wake up and finish the procedure.  Stitch himself back together, he had said.  Set a splint, take some time to recover, and then eventually be on his way back to his kind.

The wound on his leg was bleeding more heavily now, and Castiel suddenly had the daunting realization that Dean was probably losing too much blood.  He could remember now how many of the Caddo people had died during battles; arrowhead and stab wounds had caused them to bleed out and die, sometimes within minutes of the initial impact.  Castiel frowned, trying to fathom how much blood Dean had already lost.  If he had lost too much, it would be too late for Castiel to save him.

_Well, hopefully it wasn’t too late._

Springing into action, Castiel hopped up from the cot and ripped a long, coarse vine from the wall behind Dean.  He wrapped it thickly around Dean’s upper calf, above the wound, seeking to slow the flow of blood so that he could try to help this poor human.  Because although Castiel had promised Dean to give him an honorable funeral if he died, he had to admit that he did not want to see Dean to rest.  There was something about this human– something beautiful and righteous about the way his soul had glowed in the darkness of the forest– that made Castiel want to help him.  To protect him.

He fumbled dumbly with the small box Dean had shown him earlier, undoing the clasp and dumping out the neatly packaged materials onto the side of the cot.  And then he simply stared; looking down at the needles and thread and clamps and knives with utter confusion, because he had absolutely no clue what he was doing. He _did_ know that he did not have much time to waste here, but that was all.  Dean had said that he needed to stitch the wound _back together_ … Did that mean sticking the skin back over the open cut?  _Sewing_ the pieces of skin to each other until the wound was closed? It was an idea that had never really occurred to Castiel, since his own wounds typically healed themselves (he did have one ugly dent in his own left leg which had never quite healed, when a red-breasted nuthatch had decided to burrow into his body in search of insects), but he did see how it made sense. 

If your skin wouldn’t grow back itself, the only logical solution would be to force it back together manually.

Castiel produced a small needle from the box, wrapped up in a clear material that he supposed kept it clean until it was ready for use.  He tore the material away, then clumsily reached back into the box and picked up a small spool of dark green threat.  He sent a brief prayer up to the Heavens that this was the correct material, then threaded the string through the small loophole at the end of the needle.  He brought it to Dean’s skin tentatively, narrowing his eyes and biting his lips as he poked the needle through the first layer of the human’s skin.

Though Castiel hadn’t done it in years– not since he was still a sapling and his mother was still looking after him– he found that ‘stitching’ a wound was quite like sewing deer hides together.  The skin was roughly the same consistency, and when he pulled the thread taught Dean’s skin seamed together in a way that Castiel found quite reminiscent of the deer-skin sacks his mother used to collect berries in.  It was probably a crude analogy, Castiel knew, but it was the only thing that Castiel could relate this situation to.  Of course, sewing this human’s most likely fatal wounds back together was inherently more important than sewing any deer hide ever was, but at least Castiel sort of knew what he was doing.

The wound was sealed within a half hour, and the bleeding stopped shortly afterwards.  Dean was still asleep and showing no signs of waking up soon, but Castiel felt good.  He had a feeling that things were going to get better from here on out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that you all are enjoying this fic so far! Any questions, comments or concerns are all appreciated!
> 
> You can also follow this story on [my tumblr](https://www.smack-that-assbutt.tumblr.com)


	4. It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

Miraculously, Dean woke the next morning.  If you could call four o’clock daybreak the morning, that is.  He was no doubt grumpy to be woken up by his body at such an ungodly hour, but he supposed he should be grateful.  He was alive, after all.

He was just leaning over his own body to assess the damage to his leg when he realized how hungry he was.  His stomach rumbled angrily and painfully, and Dean ‘s entire body clenched up in pain.  He’d been so focused on what had happened to him in the last few days; surviving a parachute malfunction to discovering that elves were real to treating his injuries that he hadn’t even had time to think about food.  But now, here he was, running on more than three days without food and (by the looks of the stained cot beneath his legs) monumental blood loss. He had never known painful hunger before now, and it was not pleasant, to say the least. 

He twisted his body around, eyeing his surroundings decisively.  There was a large, stone table in the corner of the room nearest the fireplace that appeared to be covered in fruits and vegetables.  Dean’s stomach rumbled again at the mere sight of the food, just out of his reach, but there was no way that he would be able to get to it without causing further injury to his body.  He could barely move his mangled leg without feeling intense pain, and so there was no way he was going to make it ten feet across the room to get to that table.  And, as far as he could tell, the cottage was completely deserted and he was alone.

He remembered the tea, suddenly, just as he was laying back down.  He grunted and shifted again, reaching out and picking up the cup Castiel had left for him the day before.  He hadn’t drunk it because he had feared it would be drugged with something… For all he knew, really, it could be.  But something about the sloppily done stitches on his leg and the warm blanket draped over his body (one that had certainly _not_ been there when he’d fallen unconscious) made him believe that it was probably safe for him to drink what Castiel had given him.  Castiel was safe.

 _Or maybe that’s just the hunger talking, dumbass_.

Either way, Dean’s lips were on the cup within a matter of seconds.  He nearly coughed the shit up, too, the moment it touched his lips.  It tasted so bad- so _rotten­-_ like boiled licorice and dirt.  Or maybe hangover vomit.  _Yeah_ , Dean decided as he forced himself to take another sip, his stomach gurgling as he swallowed it down, _definitely tastes like hangover vomit_.

The sound of a latch being undone and a door creaking open startled Dean, and he almost spilled the remainder of his drink all over himself from the surprise of it.  He couldn’t have said that he would have been very sorry to see the foul-tasting liquid go, either, if it weren’t his only source of sustenance at the moment.  He clutched the drink close to his chest, watching intently at the doorway to the cottage and waiting for the source of the noises to come down into the living area.  His free hand went to his pocket, where he fingered at his switch blade anxiously.

It turned out that the source of the noise was only Castiel, and as the nymph clambered noisily back into the small living area of the cottage, Dean couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh.  Castiel, who had been distracted up to that point with removing dirt and stray leaves from his messy hair, looked up suddenly at Dean, shock evident in his wide, sapphire eyes.  His smile lit up his entire face as he leapt forward, coming to kneel beside Dean’s bedside almost dutifully, beaming at him as if he were the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day.  It almost made Dean uncomfortable.  _Almost_.

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel greeted, still smiling broadly at him.  “You are awake.  I had feared that you may not recover.”

Dean’s lips quirked up and he shrugged.  “Yeah, well, I guess you won’t be getting’ rid of me that easy,” he joked.  Castiel’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he shook his head, reaching out to pat his wrist.  Dean looked down at where their hands were touching and suddenly found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of it.  Tingly warmth radiated from that place, and even as Castiel continued to speak, he couldn’t help it but stare at the place where Castiel was resting his hand upon Dean’s body.

“You have been unconscious for quite some time.  Since yesterday morning, I believe before noon.  I tried waking you in every way that I knew how, but you lost a significant amount of blood.  You passed out shortly after I set the bone back in.”

Dean bit his lips, finally letting his gaze shift from Castiel’s hands and back to his own leg.  He nodded his chin in its direction.

“Yeah, I see you stitched it back together for me.  Thanks.”

“Do not worry about it.  Now, you must be hungry,” he guessed, patting Dean’s arm one last time before he stood with a flourish and made his way towards the fireplace in the corner.  He stirred a small pot of _something_ over the fire, smiling over at Dean.  “Anybody who willingly drinks Echinacea Root is somebody who must be starving,” he chuckled.  Dean snorted.

“You got that right.  What is this shit, anyway?” He asked, peering at the contents of his cup distastefully.  Castiel chuckled.

“It is a flowering plant that has very powerful healing properties.  It staves off infection and fever.  It’s probably a good thing that you are drinking it now, actually,” he paused, stirring the pot over the fire again and chuckling.  “Though it would have tasted much better if you had drunk it while it was warm, I assure you.”

Castiel continued to stand by the stove and stir whatever it was he was cooking up in his pot.  When he finally deemed the concoction ready for consumption, nearly ten minutes later, Dean was so hungry that he probably would have eaten it if Castiel had told him it was full of cockroach brains.  As it turned out, it was just mushroom soup, and it was absolutely delicious.  In all his life, Dean didn’t think he’d ever tasted such flavorful mushrooms.  He made Castiel promise to make it for him again sometime soon.  And when the human was looking at Castiel with those wide, imploring green eyes, it was nearly impossible for him to deny him whatever he wanted.

Dean hummed thoughtfully around his last spoonful of mushroom soup, a smile gracing his face.  “That was fucking amazing, man.  You’re one hell of a cook.”

“Thank you, Dean.  Though I do think that you are exaggerating a bit about the quality of the stew,” he noted, a small smile gracing his lips as he stood to take their bowls back to the other side of the cabin. 

Dean snorted.  “No way, that was the best soup I ever had in my life.  And I’m not even a fan of mushrooms,” he paused, biting his lips.  “Hey, uh… Do you have any sticks or anything?  I know you stitched my leg up, but I’ve still got to set it.  Otherwise it’ll heal all wonky.”

Wonky was an odd word, but Castiel thought he understand what Dean was saying.  He nodded, setting the bowls down on the counter and turning towards the fireplace.  He picked up a cord of wood from beside the hearth, removing a flat, long piece of wood and holding it up for Dean to see.  “Is this what you wanted?”

“Perfect!  Come here,” Dean smiled thankfully and leaned down, picking up the discarded med kit from the floor and popping it open.  Castiel made his way back over to Dean slowly, knowing that this aspect of Dean’s healing was in no way as urgent as the last had been.  He took his seat on the stool by Dean’s bedside, handing him the flat of wood and watching him go to work.

Dean set the piece of wood beside his left leg, wincing as he moved, and carefully began to wrap a thin stand of cotton around the wood piece and his leg.  Most of what encumbered Dean’s actions for the next hour or so was wrapping; a steady and repetitive process that Castiel found nonetheless interesting. By the time that Dean was finished wrapping he looked exhausted, but he nonetheless smiled up at Castiel, chuckling to himself.

“What’re you starin’ at, man?” He asked, but before Castiel could offer an answer, Dean continued talking.  “We’ll probably need to unwrap it sometime soon, so we can redress the stitches.  I guess I’ll just wait ‘til it starts itching,” he smiled again, leaning back and propping his head up against his hands.  Castiel looked down at him curiously.

“What was the point of wrapping your leg up like that if we are simply going to unwrap it again?” he questioned. 

“Wrapping it with the splint sets the bone straight,” Dean explained.  “It kinda forces my leg to take on the shape of the stick it’s lined up with.  I’m not sure how it all works,” he said, waving a hand haphazardly in the direction of his legs.  “Either way, the splint will help me get back up on my feet.”

“You will be able to walk again,” Castiel noted, and when Dean nodded he smiled.  Getting Dean back up on his feet would be a good thing.  The faster that the human started walking again, the better chance of a full recovery he had.  And then… “And then you will go back home.”

Dean went quiet for a few seconds, then nodded.  “Yeah.  Once I can walk again… You know, I’ll be on my way.  Get out of your hair,” he smiled, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes as it had earlier.  He shifted, wincing slightly, and Castiel frowned.

“Are you in pain?  Would you like some more Echinacea Root?”

 Dean snorted.  “Are you kidding me?  That shit is nasty as fuck.  Honestly I think I’d be better off getting drunk, at this point,” he paused, licking his lips and smirking in the nymph’s direction, “You got any booze around here, Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed in confusion and he tilted his head to the side.  Dean couldn’t help but laugh at the face he was making, so innocent and adorable looking that it was impossible not to be amused by it. Before he could ask Dean to clarify, the man spoke again, explaining.

“Alcohol, Cas.  You got anything alcoholic to drink?” He laughed.  A look of understanding crossed Castiel’s face, and he nodded, turning away from the pot before him and reaching for a high shelf.  From the shelf he pulled a large jug, filled with dark purple liquid up to about half way.

“It is fermented blackberry juice.  I have never heard it referred to as ‘booze’ before, though,” he explained, uncapping the jug and pouring two generous servings into some wood cups he had produced from the same shelf.  “I must warn you before you drink this, Dean Winchester,” he said rather seriously, setting the jug down and carrying the wooden cup over to the eagerly waiting human.  “This drink has been known to impair judgement.”

Dean laughed out loud, reaching out to greedily accept the drink from Castiel’s hands.  “Oh yeah, buddy.  Believe me, I know.”

Several cups of juice each later, Dean found that he was significantly more sloshed than he had been before, and that the pain in his leg had seemed to dissipate to a medium ache rather than the blazing roar it had been before.  He wiggled his toes, giggling when the action sent a shiver up his spine.

“So what were you doing outside this morning, anyway, Castiel?” Dean slurred.  It was most definitely too early for him to be this drunk (it was approximately six o’clock in the morning, to be exact) but there were no other humans around to judge him right then, so Dean really couldn’t bring himself to care.  Castiel didn’t seem to be nearly as affected by the alcohol as Dean was, but he was sure that that was only because Cas was a magical creature with an equally magical alcohol tolerance.  He wasn’t exactly wrong, either.

“I prefer to sleep outside, when the weather permits,” the nymph answered, looking away from Dean and towards the doorway of the cottage.  “And besides, you are sleeping in my bed anyway.  It is more comfortable for me to spend the nights outside, where I can stretch my limbs.”

“Shit, Cas,” Dean breathed, leaning forward so that his face was only mere inches away from Castiel’s.  The smell of wine on his breath was pungent, but Castiel did not shy away, instead turning his full attention to Dean and his words.  “You shouldn’t ‘ave to sleep outside for me.  This cot is plenty big; if you wanted, we could always just sleep together,” he offered.  Then he released a rather loud hiccup, his cheeks turning bright red and his hand slapping over his mouth.  He began to giggle ridiculously, like a child, his entire body shaking with the force of his laughter.  “Oh no, Cas!  I didn’t mean it like _that_ …”

The nymph’s eyebrows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side curiously, an action that only seemed to incite Dean into further hysterics.  He began to wonder idly if Dean was laughing at him, but a moment later his fears were abated when Dean cried out, “Oh God, I’m so _stupid_!” and began to laugh like a maniac once again.  So he wasn’t laughing at Castiel; he was laughing at himself.  Though, for what reason, Castiel was still unsure of.

He certainly did have a beautiful laugh, though.

“Perhaps you have had enough wine,” Castiel suggested, carefully reaching forward and prying the empty cup from Dean’s hands (the cup that he was currently trying to lick the inside of) and setting it down on the table beside the cot.  The human looked up at him with a distressed expression, his lips curving into a disappointed pout when he realized that Cas wasn’t planning on giving him any more to drink.

“That’s not fair, Cas,” he complained.  Castiel’s lips twitched and he shook his head, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

“Yes, I know,” he said, almost patronizingly.  “But life is not always fair.”

“Ah, don’t give me that crap,” he snorted.  “People always say garbage like that.  ‘Life isn’t fair’, they say, ‘You live and you learn’.  But you know what?  None of that shit is true.  I’ve been livin’ for 23 years and I haven’t learned a damn thing.”

“You are still very, very young, though,” Castiel offered.  Dean snorted.

“Oh, give it up.  The truth is that nobody knows nothin’,” he laughed again, though it was more bitter this time than jovial, and waved his hands in front of him as if gesturing to something in the air.  “Take you for instance.  I grew up all my life thinkin’ the Greeks must ‘a been smoking some funky plants or something, to have dreamed up all these stories about goblins and fairies and talking animals and shit.  That’s what I was _taught,_ that it was all a bunch of _lies._ Truth is, it’s been real this whole time.  And no human ever could have taught me that.  My boring ass life in _Lawrence_ fucking _Kansas_ couldn’t ‘a taught me that.” He leaned forward again, breath ghosting Castiel’s chin as he jabbed a pointed finger into Castiel’s bare chest.  “ _You_ taught me that.  And you’re just a fuckin’ tree!  You’re a God damn tree and you know more about being nice and havin’ a loving heart than any rotten old human I ever knew,” he huffed, flopping back against the cot and wincing when the movement jostled his leg.  He let out a heavy sigh, raking his fingers through his hair and shaking his head, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he muttered, “You’re the only one who’s ever taught me anything.”

Castiel was at a loss for words. His heart ached for this human, who must have been feeling so spiritually lost to be saying all of these things to him.  To be pouring his heart out to him, like this.  He swallowed thickly, scooting closer to the bed and leaning over Dean’s body.  “Dean…”

“Say,” the man gasped suddenly, and in an instant he was sitting up again, his and Castiel’s faces mere centimeters apart and their breaths ghosting one another’s lips every time they breathed in.  “Did you ever meet Dionysus?”

Castiel couldn’t help but laugh at that, leaning away from Dean so that he wouldn’t accidentally knock into the man in his amusement.  And all the time, Dean just kept his eyes trained on Castiel, his face lit up with amusement and interest as he awaited an answer.  It was only after Castiel had finished laughing that he realized how serious of a question Dean had been asking, and he quickly shook his head, reaching out to grasp Dean’s shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

“Um, no, Dean.  I am not quite _that_ old.”

“Oh,” Dean breathed, and then a moment later he was doubled over in another fit of drunken giggles, leaning against Cas and nudging him in the ribs playfully.  “So how old are you, then?” He teased.  Castiel let out a heavy sigh, gently pushing Dean away and forcing him to lay back down on the cot.  Dean grinned up at him happily, all bitter rambling from earlier seemingly forgotten.  Castiel couldn’t help the fond smile that played over his lips as he stood from his chair, collecting his and Dean’s empty cups and bowls and turning away.

“You should try to get some rest.  You have quite a bit of healing to do, yet.”

It was impossible for Castiel to miss Dean’s petulant muttering, even from across the cottage.  “ _You_ have quite a bit of healing to do, _yet_.”

Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what to make of this human, though he was growing rather fond of the young man.  At this point, there was only one thing that Castiel knew for certain: Dean Winchester did not have a very high tolerance for Elvish Wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to find some information on humans accepting drinks from elves/nymphs, but I had a really hard time (Read: "3 Times It's Okay To Accept A Drink From A Guy You're Not Into", it really was so interesting! Not). So if something isn't entirely accurate, it's because I'm winging it and my only source for semi accurate information has been Yahoo Answers (feel free to offer me any info you have guys have, preferably with sources!) And no, Lord of the Rings is not a reliable source of information, no matter how much Dean might want to live in Middle earth (that giant nerd)  
> Anyway.... This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the last, but I thought we could all use some lighthearted, drunk, happy Dean before we get into the more serious stuff.
> 
>  
> 
> **Comments and questions are ALWAYS welcome!!**


	5. Not My Mate; Nor Thrall, Nor Consort, Nor Concubine

Castiel occupied the rest of his day foraging berries and plants in the wood, items that he planned to dry and store for the coming winter.  It was late August now; already the leaves on the trees were beginning to wither and go yellow at the edges.  Even his own body was starting to change, the vines twisted around his own torso and arms that usually glowed a vibrant green were now losing their color, becoming darker with every passing day.  The sun was staying out longer now as the summer came to close, and small animals all around the forest were busy finding homes and making nests that would keep them warm in the cold (He had already found a nest of four mice burrowing into the wall behind his own fireplace.  He hadn’t had the nerve to tell them to leave).  Winter was certainly well on its way, and Castiel wanted to be prepared.

He also wasn’t sure how long Dean would be staying with him in his little cottage home, and if the human didn’t heal in time, he would be stuck with Castiel all winter.  The thought troubled Castiel; his home was very small, and not necessarily fit for a human to live in for very long.  Especially during the winter, when the forest turned dead and the weather become bitter cold.  His tiny fireplace most likely would not be enough to keep Dean warm for the winter.

Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Castiel focused his attention back on the task at hand; collecting raspberries.  Dean would be gone before the winter came, he would make sure of it.  These woods were no place for a human being, and Dean had a home back in some place called Kansas.  Once his leg was healed and he could walk again, Castiel would see that he found his way back to his own kind and then be done with all of this human business.

He ignored the twinge in his chest at the thought of never seeing Dean again.

The wild raspberry bushes were in full bloom at this time of year, and Castiel was not going to let pass the opportunity to harvest as many as he could.  Fresh raspberries were absolutely scrumptious; a sweet delicacy to be savored in this part of the forest, and Castiel always baked them into the most delicious tarts.  They were one of his favorite foods to make during this time of year, and now Castiel found himself excited at the prospect of baking them.  He would need to find some sugarcane, too, if he was going to make the sweet treat.

Around high noon he decided that he should head back to the cottage; the sun was scorching overhead, making conditions too hot to work comfortably in.  His satchel was mostly full with raspberries as well, and he figured that he needed to return to feed Dean his lunch anyway.  It had been almost six hours since they last ate, and despite how many raspberries Castiel may have filled up on while out in the wood, he knew that humans generally needed at least three meals per day in order to function properly.

He took his time walking back to the cottage, happy to soak up some sunlight, though the heat did tire him out.  He returned to the cottage in just under one hour, relaxed from the sun and ready with plans to roast some wild onions and then get to work on his tarts.  He wondered if Dean liked to bake. Perhaps they could bake together.

He was startled from his concentrated stupor as he approached the cottage by the sound of muffled voices, one much louder and more excited than the other.  He frowned in confusion, inching closer to the hidden doorway that led into his underground home, strained to hear what exactly they were.  He listened for as long as he could bear, but he couldn’t seem to make anything decisive out.  But there were definitely two people down there, and from the sound of it they were arguing.

A moment later there was an audible crash from below, and after nearly jumping out of his skin from fright he moved quickly, yanking the latch on the door and pounding down the stairs, into the living area.  He nearly tripped over a stack of fallen pots and pans on his way down, scowling as he kicked the utensils to the side and looked around.

The room was, by all means, trashed.  Half eaten, discarded apples and peaches lay strewn all over the floors, a chair was knocked over by the fireplace, dirty cups and bowls stacked up on the counter, some still filled with food and drink from whoever had used them last. His things were thrown about, priceless vases and glass pieces smashed on the floor and scattered recklessly around the room. The curtains over the cot where Dean lay looked burned (how on earth he could have gotten the fire all the way over there, he had no clue). A priceless painting of his mother and father, made from crushed berries and oil, hung crookedly from the wall with a gigantic tear in the center of it. His eyes welled up with tears at the sight of it, but Castiel's heartbreak quickly gave way to anger. Rage boiled up under Castiel’s skin, and he spun on his heel, turning towards the cot where Dean was propped up against the wall, looking quite scared.

 _As he should be_ , Castiel thought menacingly, _I will skin him alive for this._

“Cas…”

“Do not speak.  What in God’s name is going _on_ here?  I invite you into my home, I treat you hospitably, I take care of you and I feed you, and _this_ is how you repay me?  You destroy my home?” He roared, cheeks turning scarlet, then red, then dark purple as he let his anger take control of him.  “This place is a disaster!  You have _destroyed_ my _home!_ How you even managed to get up and about to do so is beyond me, I was under the impression that you were too injured to walk.  But I suppose that it is my own fault for trusting a _human_ like yourself!” He huffed incredulously, shaking his head. "I never should have taken you in. I should have let you die in that forest!" He screamed, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth together.  “And what more- didn’t I hear another voice down here?  Have you taken it upon yourself to invite unbidden, unwanted guests into my home as well?”

Dean’s eyes were the size of saucers as Castiel ranted at him, the nymph hardly pausing to take a breath as he screamed his rage.  Still, despite the hurtful things that Cas was saying, Dean felt obliged to at least try to explain. Or rather, to warn him.  Castiel’s eyes narrowed in his direction as he opened his mouth to speak, raising his hand and pointing behind Castiel.

“Cas –”

A menacing giggle from behind Castiel distracted the both of them, and the nymph span around instantly, jumping back in surprise when he found himself face to face with another creature.

“I believe that I may be the _unwanted guest_ you are looking for,” the being announced, throwing his head back and laughing as he spoke.  The creature wore nothing but a tight, brown loin cloth and a small bag around his waist, his dark gray skin laid bare for all the world to see.  Lichens grew in patches like hair all over his legs and his bare chest, spreading up his neck all the way to his pointed ears.  Short horns, like those of a Billy Goat, sprouted from the top of his head and poked out through a thick mane of dirty, unruly brown hair that he kept atop his head.

“ _You_ ,” Castiel hissed, his eyes narrowing like slits as he glared at the man standing before him, and a moment later he had him pinned up against the stone wall.  It continued to laugh, squirming in his hold and grinning salaciously down at Castiel.

“Oh, come on _Cassie_!  Aren’t you excited to see me?” He drawled, feigning insult and continuing to squirm in Castiel’s hold.  The nymph held strong, though, pressing his arm up against the thing’s neck and cutting off his breathing. 

“No, Gabriel.  Nobody is _ever_ happy to see you.”

The thing- _Gabriel-_ gasped for breath, arms flailing out and coming up to grasp at Castiel’s strong forearm.  “Can’t… Breathe…,” he gasped, kicking his legs dramatically and letting his eyes roll back in his head.  Castiel glared at him, holding the position for a few more seconds before he rolled his eyes and eased back, allowing Gabriel some room to breathe.  As soon as he did this, however, Gabriel was gone with a snap of his fingers, reappearing on the other side of the room.

Standing right beside Dean Winchester.

“Leave him alone,” Castiel commanded instantly, taking a step towards the cot and finding that he was suddenly immobilized.  He roared, angrier now than he was even before, his fists clenching as he glared at Gabriel.  The creature laughed, a menacing grin spreading over his face as he climbed up onto the cot so that he was sitting practically over the human’s head.

“What’s the matter, Cassie?  You didn’t tell me you got a mate,” he teased, then turned his attention to Dean, cooing at him and reaching out to touch him.  Dean jerked away, swatting at the thing’s hand and trying his best to maneuver his way out of Gabriel’s reach.  The creature laughed, smiling back up at Castiel.  “And a feisty one too!  Do you think he’d like some chocolate?” He asked, producing a small sprig of cocoa beans from the satchel tied around his waist.

“Do not accept any food from him, Dean,” Castiel ordered, and Dean nodded, still doing his best to shuffle away from the creature.  His hand disappeared into his pants’ pocket, and Castile watched with rapt attention as Dean produced a small blade from within it, holding the shiny metal aloft in front of him.  Gabriel laughed.

“Oh, Cassie, how _cute!_ Your cute little mate thinks that a _metal blade_ will hurt me!” He chuckled darkly, leaning forward and poking Dean in the nose.  Startled, Dean flinched, looking up at Gabriel with wide, fearful eyes as he continued to speak. “That knife is _made_ from me, sweetheart.  It’s not going to hurt me.”

Dean’s face twisted up with something that could only be described as angry determination as he snapped, “We’ll see,” and swung the blade forward, landing it dead center in Gabriel’s chest.  The thing doubled over, whining and keening in pain as he clutched at the blade’s handle.  Dean smiled smugly, looking over at Cas almost proudly to see his reaction.  This, of course, was the moment that Gabriel chose to wrench the knife from his stomach, which healed instantly, and grab Dean in a headlock.  He pressed the knife up against Dean’s throat, letting out a threatening hiss between his teeth when Cas tried to move forward again, only to be blocked by Gabriel’s magic.

“Cas _please_ ,” Dean gasped, tugging against Gabriel’s hold.  Gabriel snickered, and Castiel growled.

“What do you _want_ , Gabe?” He snapped.  Gabriel’s eyes lit up like gold, shining brightly in the darkness of the cottage.

“Well a little respect would be nice, for starters,” he chided, jerking the knife against Dean’s neck and eliciting a pained whimper from the immobilized man.  Castiel clenched his fists angrily, jerking forward and fighting against his magical restraints.  He knew from experience that Gabriel would only be able to keep his voodoo up for so long, and he planned to tackle him the moment he got the chance.  Still, plans did little good for him right now, when Gabriel had a knife digging into Dean’s neck and could kill him at any given moment.  “Your _mate_ hasn’t been very nice to me, Castiel.”

“I’m not his mate!” Dean finally cried, exasperated, squirming uncomfortably in Gabriel’s arms.  The creature’s face lit up with glee, and he laughed.

“You’re _not_?” he gasped, then looked up at Castiel, amused.  “My cousin; you _animal_!  You have a human warming your bed, laying here _waiting_ for you all day in your bed, and he is not even your mate?  I never knew you to be the type to take a thrall!”

“Cousin…?” Dean murmured under his breath, eyes flickering between Castiel and Gabriel suspiciously as they began to bicker.

Castiel’s cheeks darkened to an embarrassing shade of red.  “He is not my _thrall_ either, you imbecile. He –”

“If he is not your thrall then what is he, hmm?  Your consort?  Concubine?”

“Gabriel, Dean and I are not –”

Gabriel continued right on, ignoring Castiel completely.  “Or dare I suggest: your _broodmare_?”

He began to laugh hysterically then, as if this were the funniest joke he had ever made in his life, his head thrown back as his entire body shook from the force of his cackling.  His hold on Dean loosened just a little, and the man jerked away from him, shoving Gabriel off of the bed and onto the floor.  Losing his balance, Gabriel toppled over, grunting loudly as his face impacted with the cold ground.  A moment later and Castiel was on top of him, struggling to pin him down completely.

“Hey!” Gabriel yelled, kicking out and pounding his fists against Castiel’s chest.  “You’re not supposed to be able to move! What the hell,” he groaned, jerking violently and whacking Castiel in the face with the back of his hand.  His knuckles cracked loudly against Castiel’s cheek, an impact that would surely leave a bruise, but Castiel kept on top of him, hardly even flinching at the impact. 

“I am my own magical creature, remember?” Castiel hissed, socking him in the jaw and rolling with him when Gabriel decided to topple him over.  “Besides, when you get distracted by _stupid jokes_ your magic becomes weaker.  You should _know that,_ Gabriel.”  The two of them rolled around together on the floor for quite some time, throwing and landing and taking punches as if nothing could tire either of them out.  Dean watched in awe, and once Castiel had finally pinned Gabriel successfully he cheered, only quieting once he caught sight of the exasperated glare Cas was sending his way.

“I will ask you one more time,” Castiel panted, kneeing his cousin in the gut when he tried to move again.  Gabriel grunted in pain, flopping back down against the floor and wheezing. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“We both know what I want, Cassie,” he gasped, tilting his head back to take a deep breath before he continued.  Dean leaned over the side of his bed with interest, craning to hear Gabriel’s next words.  “What I _want_ is a harem of maidens to take me to the hot spring and spank– _OW! Castiel!_ ”

“Try again, Gabriel,” Castiel snapped, pulling his hand away from Gabriel’s now stinging red cheek.  “You have come into my home and ransacked it, eaten my food, made merry with my wine, threatened my guest with a knife…”

“He stabbed me with it!” Gabriel whined, shooting a glare in Dean’s direction when the human began to snicker.  Castiel rolled his eyes.

“Only because he felt threatened,” Castiel explained, his tone almost patient, as if he were dealing with a child.  “And you tried to touch him.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Gabriel complained, squirming under Castiel’s grip, obviously uncomfortable.  “I don’t give a crap about your human _boyfriend_ anymore.  The real reason I came down here is because the Fall Equinox is fast approaching,” his eyes lit up at the sound of his own words, and he smiled brightly up at Castiel.  “I wanted to invite you to the Celestial Orgy.  It’s supposed to be _quite the event_ this year.”

Castiel was silent for a long time, a myriad of emotions playing across his face.  There was anger and confusion, sure, but mostly what stuck out to Dean was his annoyance and exasperation.  As if he couldn’t believe that all of the fighting and threatening and magic and violence was all because his idiot cousin wanted to invite him to a God damn orgy.

“You did _all of this_ ,” Castiel hissed, finally, glaring menacingly down at his cousin. “Because you wanted to invite me to an _orgy_?” he snarled.  Gabriel chuckles and nodded, a strained smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, of course.  I am a mountain nymph, after all.  You need to stay true to your stereotypes.”

Castiel growled.  “Just because you’re an _oread_ does not give you any right to behave like an _animal_!” He roared, his hand coming down and tightening around Gabriel’s neck, choking him for real this time.  Castiel’s fist tightened around his cousin’s neck vicously, and the creature’s face began to go blue.  Dean cleared his throat.

“Cas, you’re killing him,” he called.  Castiel roared.

“Good!” he screamed.  Gabriel’s body jerked beneath his body, struggling for freedom as tears ran tracks down his face.  Frothy saliva sputtered from his mouth, and Dean made a desperate sound behind Castiel, reaching out as far as he could and grasping at Castiel’s shoulder.

“Stop,” he said, and when Castiel didn’t flinch, he said it louder.  “Stop it, Cas.  Stop!”

He released his cousin’s neck with a jerk, rolling off of him as he began to sputter and cough violently.  Color quickly returned to Gabriel’s cheeks (well, as much color as there could be in someone who’s skin was gray) and he turned away from Castiel and Dean, regaining his composure.  They both allowed him this moment of privacy, and as Castiel turned from his cousin Dean quickly jerked his hand off of the nymph’s shoulder, looking away from him.  Castiel cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?” he murmured softly.  Dean shrugged.

“Just a few scrapes and bruises.  Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He answered quietly.  Castiel nodded, his eyes roaming over Dean’s body in a personal assessment of of any possible injuries. Aside from some small nicks against his throat and bruises on his arms, there didn't seem to be any monumental damage to his body.  When he deemed that the human was in fact telling the truth and he was alright, he turned back to face his cousin, who was eyeing him curiously.  Castiel frowned.

“What?” He snapped. 

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head, clearing his throat and murmuring hoarsely, “So are you coming to the orgy, or what?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe well that got a little out of hand.  
> I'm having a bit too much fun writing this, you guys. And the updates may slow down quite a bit after Sunday. My boss is coming back soon and she's not a nice lady ;(
> 
>  **Please leave comments!** They are the lifeblood of my writing inspiration.


	6. The Elephant In The Woods

They did not speak after Gabriel left.  Castiel tidied up silently, stacking pots and pans back in their places and cleaning the messes he had left; mud tracks from the floor and spilled food from the table.  He cleaned for longer than he probably needed to, occupying himself with busy work that would keep his attention away from Dean.  A thick, awkward fog of tension had fallen over the room the moment Gabriel had disapparated, and it was quite apparent that both Dean and Castiel did _not_ want to touch the elephant in the room.

The elephant, of course, being the way that Castiel had screamed at Dean before he realized that Gabriel was the source of the mess in his home.  The way he had spat the word human at Dean’s face; the way he’d said with such conviction that he would have been better off letting Dean die in the forest.  It was obvious by Dean’s radio silence and the mournful look on his face that he was hurt by Castiel’s words. 

Perhaps he had thought that they were friends.  Castiel supposed that it wouldn’t have been the most farfetched assumption to make.

He _liked_ Dean.

But Dean was a human, and Castiel was a wood nymph.  It was an undeniable fact that they lived in two separate worlds from each other.  And while the human lifestyle had always been quite interesting to Castiel, and he enjoyed human company when it came along, he was still an entirely different species.  He had a different perspective than they did; an understanding of the irrelevancy of day-to-day life when he had an outlook of the grand story. 

Emotions were not something that he typically took time out of his day to consider.  Here in the forest, nobody had any fragile constitutions at risk.  Chipmunks did not have feelings that Castiel could accidentally hurt.  He could go days regularly without thinking a single thought, usually, occupying himself with menial tasks and long naps.  He would watch the forest; watch the plants grow and the animals work around him, and enjoy the simplicity of it all.  Emotions seemed tedious.  A general waste of time and cause for vulnerability.

But then… Castiel watched Dean as he ate the rations he had given him, wordlessly accepting them and nodded to him as way of thanks.  He looked vulnerable now, yes.  But he also looked strong.  He was built like a brick house; his corded muscles flexed as he lifted his fork to his lips; the impassive expression on his face when it was quite obvious his leg must be in extreme pain.  But it wasn’t even a physical thing.  This man… this _human_ had quite literally fallen from the sky, had suffered from near fatal wounds and most likely had expected to die if it hadn’t been for Castiel.  He had watched the human in what he thought were his last moments; watched him slip the oxygen mask from his face and take on death with his head raised high.  He’d been removed from the environment he was most comfortable in, separated from his friends, learned that everything he thought he had known about the world was a lie, and he was… Well, for lack of a better word, he was fine. 

Dean Winchester was strong.  His soul was fierce and so was he, in his actions and in his convictions.  If it weren’t for him, his own cousin would be dead at this instant and his blood would be on Castiel’s hands.  And as much as Gabriel could get make him angry sometimes, he never wanted him dead.  Not really/

No, Dean was certainly the strongest human that the nymph had ever met.  This was a truly undeniable fact that Castiel knew after mere days of knowing the young man.

And yet Castiel had hurt him still.  He sent a sidelong glance in Dean’s direction, watching him as he shoveled fire roasted onion into his mouth.  He seemed to enjoy the food, which Castiel thought was good.  As long as Dean kept eating, his mettle would not waver.  Even if Castiel could not treat him properly, he knew that Dean would endure and he would heal.  And Castiel would try to do better for this human.

He spent his evening stripping wheat and grinding it finely with a mortar and pestle.  The process to make flour from scratch was a time consuming one, but worth it when he knew what the finished product would be.  Images filled his mind of sweet breads baked with honey and sticky tarts filled with all sorts of berries.  He wondered idly what kinds of berries Dean liked the best, and if he would want Castiel to bake them into a tart for himself.  he wondered if Dean would even stay around in time for him to bake any tarts at all.

His gaze shifted towards the human once more, but he found that Dean had turned away from him and was now curled up on his side.  The even rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was sleeping.  Castiel let out a heavy sigh, setting his pestle down on the counter and wiping sweat from his brow.  He stepped away from the counter and towards the fireplace, picking up a metal rod and stoking the flames so that they wouldn’t burn so hot.  Then he set right back to work, grinding his wheat and distracting himself from his troubling thoughts.

He hadn’t thought so much since he was a mere sapling and still learning the ways of the world.

It was drizzling by the time that dusk fell, the soft _pitter_ patter of raindrops against the roof of the cottage soothing in a way.  Castiel prepared a light dish of salted spinach leaves and potatoes for his dinner.  He filled a small bowl for Dean as well, but when he went to offer it to the human he found that he was still asleep.  A quick assessment of his body let Castiel know that he had not fallen back into the feverish state he had been in days earlier, and so he set the bowl down on the table by the cot and moved away.

He slept outside, just next to the entrance of the cottage, so that he would be woken in the middle of the night if any intruders came to pass.  He was fairly certain that none would; Gabriel loved mischief, but he was not malicious.  He would not return back to Castiel’s home for some months’ time at least, until the memory of today’s incidents had faded a bit from his memory.

In the early morning he was awoken by the sensation of something crawling up his arms, and when he opened up his eyes it was to discover a family of tree frogs climbing all over his limbs.  He let out a soft sigh and plucked them up, one by one, setting each down on the damp ground and watching as they hopped away.  The sun was just starting to shine through the tree tops, though Castiel could tell that it was well past sunrise.  It was most likely seven or eight o’clock in the morning.

His jaw cracked as he yawned, and shifting back into his more corporeal form he made his way down into his small cottage.  His eyes immediately shifted towards his bed, where Dean was busy moving about, his attention focused on his leg.  The human paid him no attention as he entered the room, so he did the same, shuffling towards the kitchen to help himself to some water chestnuts.  He had gotten them nearly two weeks prior in a trade with a beautiful Naiad; he had exchanged with her four grapefruits for two dozen water chestnuts. It had seemed like a fair deal at the time, but now as Castiel popped crisp, sweet nuts into his mouth he couldn’t deny that he had gotten the better end of the deal.

He ate his breakfast quietly, distracting himself with washing dishes so that he did not need to pay attention to Dean.  He could hear the human making noises from the bed; soft hisses of pain and muffled whimpers that set Castiel on edge.  Finally, when Dean called out his name, he couldn’t take it anymore.  He turned to take in the sight of the beautiful man before him, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw the pained expression on his face.

“What is wrong?” he asked urgently.  Dean shook his head, looking away from Cas and back down at his leg. 

“It just itches real bad.  I need your help removing the bandages,” he said, and then added, softly, “Please.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, setting his chores down and bustling over to the cot.  He sat down on the edge of it, in between Dean’s spread legs, and stared down at his bandaged calf with a look of great concern.  He reached out, his fingers brushing Dean’s skin, and the human flinched.  Castiel pulled his hand away and looked up at Dean with a business-like expression on his face.

“Your knife, please,” he requested, holding out his hand in front of Dean’s face.  The human’s Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably in his throat as he reached into his back pocket, rooting around for a few long moments before he produced the tiny switch blade.  The tip was stained with Gabriel’s silver blood, and Castiel winced at the sight of it, wiping the blade off with one of Dean’s blankets.  The human frowned.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.  Castiel’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I do not know what it is that you’re apologizing for,” he murmured, then paused, a heavy silence falling between the two of them as Castiel worked quickly to remove the cotton bandages from Dean’s leg.  They peeled off sticky, blood and sweat making them damp and heavy.  Castiel tossed them to the side, then set the knife down on the bed, pressing a comforting hand to Dean’s ankle.  “If anybody is to apologize, I suppose it would be me.”

Dean shook his head instantly.  “No!  No, Cas, you don’t have to apologize.  It was _me,_ I let him come in here.  I should have done more to stop him.  I was just…,” he hesitated at that, the word _scared_ heavy on his tongue and in the air between them, but Dean refused to admit it aloud.  Instead he shook his head again, his jaw setting in a firm line.  “My fault, Cas.”

“But I should not have said the things that I did,” The nymph insisted, frowning.  “I was wrong.  I am happy to have you here; privileged, even.  Your soul has been touched by the Gods, and it called out to me for help in the woods that night.  I am glad to have answered that call.  You may be human, Dean Winchester, but you are not the… the _burnt_ and _broken_ shell of a man that I made you out to be yesterday.  _You_ do not owe me anything, least of all an apology.  That is what I owe you.”

Dean was silent, his cheeks burning bright red and his mouth hanging open in shock by the time that Cas was done with his little speech.  Finally, after a solid two minutes of just gaping at Cas in disbelief, he nodded curtly and looked away.  He cleared his throat.

”Uh… Thanks,” a pause.  “Thanks for that.”

Castiel’s lips twitched up into a small smile.  “You are welcome.”

Castiel peeled away the last layer of cotton gauze over Dean’s wound, scolding the human gently when he reached out to scratch at the stitches.  Dean shrunk back like a chastened child when he spoke to him, and he watched with a pout on his face as Castiel went to boil water so that he could clean the wound.  He snuck a few scratches in here and there while Castiel wasn’t looking, but it did little to relieve the pain.

Once the water was boiled, Castiel came back with a small bowl of the steaming water and dipped a piece of cloth in it.  Then he used it to wipe down Dean’s leg, cleaning away dried blood and dead skin.  The whole process was rather disgusting altogether, but Castiel took interest in every last detail of the human body.  And though he did understand that some might consider this experience to be quite intimate, he had no clue why Dean was blushing so hard as he took his time to clean the man’s leg.  He didn’t even notice the way that Dean’s hand hovered over his own crotch, shielding it from Castiel’s view.  It wouldn’t have made sense to him, either, if he had seen it.

“There don’t seem to be any signs of infection,” Castiel noted carefully, pressing his fingers against Dean’s skin.  Near the incision sight the temperature of his skin was no different than the unblemished skin around it, a good sign.  His leg looked terrible, mangled and bent awkwardly, but Castiel was sure he would be able to walk again.  He was so entranced with the task of rewrapping Dean’s leg after it was clean that he was startled when he spoke.

“I want to try walking,” he said bravely, his eyes locking with Castiel’s.  The nymph nodded, and Dean continued.  “I’ll probably need some help at first.  If you’re willing,” he suddenly seemed nervous, and he looked away.  “otherwise I can always just lean on a walking stick.  But another person would make things easier…”

“Worry not,” Castiel said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  “Of course I will help you.  Would you like to try it now?”

“Um…,” Dean bit his lip nervously, and a moment later his stomach rumbled embarrassingly loudly.  His cheeks flushed dark red, and Castiel chuckled.

“Come, we’ll walk to the table and I’ll fetch you your breakfast.  Do you like water chestnuts?”

Dean’s lips twitched and he shrugged.  “I’ve never had them,” he murmured.  Castiel helped him maneuver so that his legs were hanging over the side of the cot.  His injured leg appeared to be much shorter than his good one, dangling lamely from Dean’s torn and dirty fire suit pants.  He grunted as he moved, wincing slightly from discomfort, and he gripped onto Castiel’s arm as if his life depended on it.  Castiel couldn’t bring himself to mind so much.

They moved slowly.  Dean didn’t talk– he didn’t make much noise at all, in fact.  His attention seemed to be concentrated wholly on the task of walking.  Castiel supposed that it was with good reason.  The moment that he was able to get himself standing on his feet, he collapsed again and it was only because of Castiel’s reflexes that he did not end up sprawled across the floor.  Scowling, he righted himself, murmuring a quiet thank you before trying again.

It took almost half an hour to get from one side of the cottage to another.  Castiel let Dean do most of the work, because it was obvious that he wanted to as well as the fact that it was probably healthy for him to stretch his muscles.  He was slow, but Castiel didn’t mind.  He had nowhere to be.  And pressed close to Dean like this, sharing his body heat, it was a new sensation that Castiel was happy to explore.  Once again, it dawned on him suddenly that this activity might be one that Dean was consider intimate.

It was an interesting concept.  _Intamacy_.  Castiel could not remember a time when he had been intimate with anybody besides his parents.  And as foreign as the concept sounded, it did have quite an appeal.

“So why aren’t you going to the orgy?” Dean’s voice seemed to pull him from his stupor, and he turned to look at Dean with a puzzled expression, frowning. 

“Orgy?”

“The Celestial Orgy,” Dean repeated, taking a careful step forward and nearly tripping over his own feet.  Castiel reached out quickly and caught him, pulling Dean’s body flush to his own.  He felt puffs of air hitting his chin every time that Dean breathed out, and when their eyes locked, the tension in the room suddenly became intense.  Castiel swallowed thickly.

“Why does it matter?” Castiel gulped, easing up his grip on Dean and allowing the man to straighten himself out.  His arm still fit snugly around his waist, but at least they weren’t so close anymore.  Dean shrugged, hobbling forward carefully.

“I was just curious.  Seems like the kind of thing you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to go to, if you’re single,” Dean paused, eyebrows furrowed.  “You _are_ single, right?”

“Yes,” Castiel sighed, looking away from Dean.  “I thought that Gabriel made that quite clear yesterday.  He was not… _exaggerating_ when he said that I am not the type to take on sexual conquests.”

Dean eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “Really?  A guy like you– and you’ve never taken pleasure in spreading your _seed_?” Dean asked, the smirk on his face making it clear that he thought something was funny.  _He is probably making fun of me_ , thought Castiel bitterly, a scowl creasing the handsome features of his face.  The smile instantly fell away from Dean’s face, and he squeezed down on Cas’s bicep.  “Hey, man, it’s okay if you’re still a virgin. I didn’t lose my V-card ‘til I was twenty-two, believe it or not.”

“No?” Castiel asked, watching as Dean shuffled forward, his leg wobbling dangerously as he put pressure on it.  He hissed through his teeth, shaking his head, and after a few moments he spoke.

“Nope.  Not ‘til my sophomore year of college, when I met Rhonda Hurley,” he smiled fondly.  “Did that girl have a set of hips on her or what.  She rode me ‘til I was raw; my dick _hurt_ the next day, if you can believe that.”

Castiel frowned. “She… rode you? I was under the impression that humans had sex through penetration, not… _mounting_.”

Dean’s cheeks turned bright red and he coughed loudly, shaking his head and looking anywhere but at Castiel.  “Oh… Okay, man.  Never mind, this is getting weird,” he laughed awkwardly, chewing at his bottom lip.  “But you should go to that orgy.  We’ll get you nice and drunk, and find you a pretty lady-nymph to bang.  How’s that sound?”

Castiel quirked an eyebrow in Dean’s direction.  “And if I have no interest in lady-nymphs?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his own lips when he saw the way Dean’s eyes widened in understanding.  A moment after the initial shock had subsided, Dean smirked as well, nudging Castiel in the ribs.

“We’ll find you a pretty little man-nymph to bang, instead.  I don’t judge.”

“Good,” Castiel conceded with a smile, and upon realizing that they had finally made it to the kitchen table, he reached out one of his long arms and plucked an apple from the center, handing it over to Dean.  “Neither do I.”


	7. Light Up This Whole Room

“So have you got any other family out here?” Dean asked one morning as he leaned against the wall by the fireplace, feeding small pieces of wood into the fire in a dilatory fashion.  “Besides Gabriel, I mean,” he added quickly, his eyes never leaving the fire.  Castiel thought that he looked quite comfortable, propped up by a pillow and leaning against the wall, his leg elevated in front of him by a small stool.  September had come, bringing with it a chill that set even Castiel on edge, and Dean had taken to camping out beside the fireplace for most of the day.  Cas didn’t mind; it gave him close company in the kitchen that he soon discovered that he rather enjoyed.  He kneaded at the dough in his hands, considering the answer to Dean’s question in thoughtful silence for a few moments before he finally spoke.

“I do have family,” he started, his tongue darting out to trace over his bottom lip before he continued.  Dean could tell that the question was making him nervous by the way his kneading became more urgent after Dean had asked it, and he wondered briefly what the problem might be before Castiel continued.  “We do not talk much.  My brothers and my sisters… They lead a much different lifestyle than I.”

“What do you mean by that?” Dean asked curiously, tossing a rather thick piece of wood into the fire and watching it pop in the flames.  Castiel let out a heavy sigh.

“Just… We have our disagreements over certain things.  Certain ways of life.  They are very traditional, and I… I am not.  I do not follow the same principals as other nymphs like me.  I am abnormal.  Some would say I am broken.” He fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable.  Dean frowned.

“Hey, man, if you don’t want to talk about this, that’s fine,” he said softly.  Castiel’s entire body seemed to relax at the utterance of those words, and he nodded eagerly, sending a small smile Dean’s way.

“I would much rather we change the subject, please,” he answered.  Dean nodded, smiling gently at him for a moment and then turning his attention back to the fire.  He fed more twigs into it, humming thoughtfully.

“One last thing, though.  I mean… You’re not broken, Cas.  Even if your family is different than you are, it doesn’t mean you’re fucked up.  I’m the only one in my family who’s bisexual, but that doesn’t mean I’m broken because of it.  And some of my family members may think like that, but that also don’t make them right.  It doesn’t make the bullshit they’re spewin’ true.  Just means they’re assholes,” he snorted, his eyes shining with something that could only be described as regretful humor, and he shook his head.  “Any family that considers _you_ broken, Cas; they are the problem.  I ain’t ever met a guy like you before.  You’re special.  Don’t ever change for anybody, you hear me?”

Castiel’s smile wobbled a little and he nodded, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he turned from Dean so that the human wouldn’t be able to see how red his face was.  Dean grinned, tossing a few more sticks into the fire, and waited until Castiel had composed himself.  Finally, the wood nymph cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Dean.  Though I cannot say that my family’s issues with me are concerning my sexuality,” he paused, frowning to himself.  “Well, at least, not in the same facet as you.  Nymphs are much more… Accepting of all sexual identities.  There is a culture of promiscuity that is widely accepted,” he said.  “Expected, even,” he added, his tone almost forlorn.  Realization dawned on Dean within seconds, and before he could even consider Castiel’s feelings, he blurted out exactly what he was thinking.

“Your family is pissed at you because you’re a virgin,” he said, looking up at Cas with wide eyes.  The nymph blushed bright scarlet and turned away again, pressing his fingers into the dough before him and stretching it out.  They fell into an uneasy silence, and after a few minutes Dean couldn’t take it anymore.  He let out a heavy sigh, tossing a few twigs into the fire carelessly and listening to them clatter against the stone wall before he spoke.  “Cas, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.  I’m sorry, okay?  Your sex life is none of your family’s business.”

“I’ve simply never had occasion,” Castiel answered quietly, his voice nearly muffled by the crackle of the fire.  “I’ve never felt a connection with anybody so strong as to warrant that kind of…,” he trailed off, the word caught in his throat.  To both his relief and his horror, Dean finished the sentence for him.

“Intimacy.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, refusing to acknowledge the words that Dean had said as he turned away to find the sugar.  Unfortunately, this just made the word hang heavier in the air, like a thick smoke that was choking him out.  _Intimacy_.  The dreaded realization struck him, quite suddenly, that Dean was the only person besides his family that he had ever shared that with.  And though their intimacy was quite different than the intimacy two mates may share with each other, it was defined by the same word all the same.

Intimacy.  Closeness. What a scary notion.

And an even scarier notion; that Castiel was enjoying the intimacy he felt between himself and Dean.

He procured the sugar from the shelf beside the wine, taking some into his hands and sprinkling it all over the dough.  The silence played out between himself and Dean for some time, and just when he had finished coating all of the doughs with sugar he spoke again.

“Do you have any family?” He asked, sparing a glance in the human’s direction.  His face twisted up with what Castiel could only describe as an expression of grief, and he nodded, looking down at his lap sadly.  Castiel frowned, and decided to extend the same courtesy to Dean as Dean had to him.  “If you don’t want to talk about it…”

“No, it’s fine.  I just miss him, is all,” he said, swallowing thickly.  Castiel’s mind whirred.  Him?  Who was him?  A father, a brother?  A _lover_? He felt nauseated by the fact that jealousy shot through him at the idea of somebody holding Dean in that way, and he stamped it down, turning his attention away from the human and back to his pastries.  He still needed to make the filling.

“My kid brother is only seventeen, y’know?” Dean continued, his voice thick with unshed tears.  He sniffed loudly, staring into the fire and shaking his head.  “I’m worried about him.  He’s on his own right now and he could be anywhere.  They could have put him into foster care and moved him away from home, for all I know.  We haven’t got any parents; I’ve been takin’ care of him since he was fourteen.” Dean sniffled, scrubbing at his eyes and letting his face fall into his hands.  This too, Castiel realized, was an intimate moment.  His stomach fluttered nervously.

“I am sorry, Dean,” he whispered.  Dean waved him off.

“No, don’t be sorry man.  You’ve done so much for me, more than anybody else would have.  Could you imagine if it had been Gabriel or somebody else who came across me in that forest?  They would have let me die, or worse,” he huffed, “You saved me.  I don’t know how I’m ever gonna repay you.”  He shook his head and wiping at the bottom of his nose.  It was all snotty. 

“I said this earlier, but I will say it again.  You owe me nothing.  Just… Just get better, and I will help you return to your home.  Is your brother your only family?” He asked.  He just wanted to distract Dean; to make him stop crying.  The sight was making his heart ache, and even as he began to fill the tarts with crushed raspberries he couldn’t seem to distract himself from the unsettled feeling in his stomach.  Dean nodded, picking up some wood and tossing it into the flames.

“Yeah.  Sammy– that’s my brother, you know– and I were raised by our Uncle Bobby, after Dad died.  Bobby’s actually the foreman of my team.  The smokejumpers,” he waved his hand in the air noncommittally, as if Castiel was supposed to understand what that meant.  “He’s a good guy.  Not really my uncle, biologically, but family don’t end in blood.  You know?”

Castiel nodded in understanding.  “Yes, I do,” he said, genuinely.  A mental image of his old platoon, from the times of the war, played out in his mind.  His best mate Balthazar; their commander Bartholomew.  The closest thing that he had to friends out here; to family.  He turned his attention back to Dean when he realized that the human was still talking.

“– half-brother Adam.  He’s only twelve; lives with his mom.  They were never too hot about Sam and I, but we have dinner every once and a while.  The kid is an amazing baseball star, definitely on his way to something big.  But I don’t think Dad ever made a very good impression on them,” he chuckled darkly, as if laughing at some sort of inside joke, and shook his head.  “Dad didn’t make very good impressions with anyone, after Mom died.  He was always just… A little too much gin and never enough therapy, y’know?” He lifted his gaze up to meet Castiel’s, his cheeks flushing when he saw Castiel’s inquisitive stare.  He swallowed thickly, turning to look away.  “Sorry. That was a bit of an overshare.”

“It’s okay, Dean.  I asked.  And I was interested in what you were saying,” he insisted.  “It is obvious that you love your family very much.  And you are worried for them.”

Dean swallowed.  “Just Sammy, really,” he said softly.  Adam had his mother to take care of him, but Sam…  Sam had never been on his own in all of his life.  And the kid was tough, sure, but Dean hated being away from him.  He hated abandoning him like this.  “Hopefully Bobby took him in… I would never forgive myself if he had to go into foster care in the beginning of his senior year,” he snorted, shaking his head.  “That kid… Let me tell you, Cas, he’s the smartest little twerp you ever met.  He’s valedictorian; that means he’s the smartest kid in his entire class.  Way more intelligent than I ever was.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed.  “You are very smart, Dean.”

Dean’s answering snort was disheartening.  Castiel frowned, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his attention away from the pastries for a moment.  Dean’s eyes flicked up to look up at him, and now he snorted with laughter.

“Oh dude, you look so _menacing_ like that.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, uncross your arms,” he continued to laugh, his eyes alight with mirth.  “You’re scaring me,” he chuckled.  Castiel frowned, uncrossing his arms and letting his arms fall back to his sides.

“I apologize.”

“Nah, I was just kidding.  But seriously, don’t look at me like that.  I know what I am, Cas, and you ain’t gonna change that.  I’m all brawn and no brains.”

“Your parachute failed on you in the woods and you still managed to land in a way that preserved your life.  You instructed me through complicated surgery on your own leg.  And, most recently, I have discovered that you are quite effective at giving personal advice to friends.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.  “We’re friends?” he asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. Castiel’s cheeks flushed and he went still, not moving for a few seconds.  Had he just called Dean his friend?  Out loud?  And was that… No, that couldn’t be hope in Dean’s voice.  He picked up his tray of uncooked pastries, moving towards Dean and crouching down so that he could place them on small, stone shelf he kept in the fireplace.  His eyes locked with Dean’s as the man began to feed wood into the fire again, fanning the flames so that they would cook Castiel’s pastries.  He couldn’t help but smile.

“Of course we are, Dean.”

Dean’s breath hitched, and Castiel wondered if he was imagining it that Dean leaned in, closer to his face.

“Yeah.  Of course,” he said, and then he smiled, big and wide and gummy like a child.

 _His smile_ , Castiel thought, _could light up this entire room.  It could light up my entire world._

 

»»-------------¤-------------««

 

“I’m goin’ stir crazy in here, man,” Dean grumbled.  Castiel hummed from his place laying on the cot on the other side of the room, not bothering to open his eyes.  He was resting while they waited for the pastries to be done, and it was obvious that he wasn’t even listening to Dean as he spoke.  Dean huffed in annoyance, gripping at the edge of the fireplace and hoisting himself up.  “I’m going outside.”

“Hmm?” Castiel mumbled, cracking one eye open and peering over at Dean.  “Remember your walking stick.  Don’t want to get up to save you when you fall,” he breathed.  Dean scowled, rolling his eyes as he floundered to stand upright.  He wanted to go on without his walking stick, just to spite Castiel, but he knew that if he did that he would just wind up falling.

“You’re an ass,” Dean huffed, shuffling along the wall until he reached the table beside the cot, picking up his stick that was leaning there.  He saw Castiel’s lips quirk up into a tiny smile, but he made no move to respond, and Dean rolled his eyes again.  But when he turned away he was smiling, and he couldn’t help but think of how adorable Castiel was.

 _He’s a fucking tree_ , Dean scolded himself. And trees were not adorable.  Trees were rough, and dirty, and… and _barky_.  If that was a word.

 _Except he’s not really a tree_.

Castiel was a wood nymph.  A mythical creature who looked like a tree (and smelled like a tree, but Dean didn’t know _anything_ about that) and was often adorably clueless about human social queues.

 _God dammit_ , Dean winced, _stop thinking of him as adorable_.

Because Castiel wasn’t adorable.  Not at all.  He was so much _more_ than adorable.  He was sweet, and caring, and ridiculously loyal.  He was passionate about everything that he did, no matter how apathetic he might seem.  He acted like he didn’t feel anything but the truth was that he was sensitive, and as far as Dean could tell, terribly lonely.  He loved to talk to Dean, always urging conversation and plucking information from him; about his life, his home back in Kansas, where he learned to do his job, his favorite foods, what he liked to o for fun.  All sorts of things.  He didn’t like to talk so much, but he loved to listen.  Dean could tell that it made him happy.

Dean wondered if Castiel would be just as happy to listen to anybody talk to him.  He had seemed horribly put-off when he saw Gabriel, so it was obvious that he didn’t like him much.  But Gabriel was family, and he knew from talking with Cas that he didn’t get on with his family all too well.  So maybe… Maybe his joy with conversing with Dean was only conditional to the fact that Dean was not his family.  Maybe any other human would make him just as happy.

Jealously curled like poison in the pit of his stomach, and he almost tripped over the last step leading out of Castiel’s house he was so distracted.  The cold air hit him in the face, knocking the breath out of him.  He blinked at his surroundings, taking in the forest around him, sunlight filtering through the treetops and lighting up the entire forest with an orange glow.  He closed the door behind him quickly, not wanting the cold air to get into the cottage, and shuffled forward.

The forest was active at this time of day.  With the sun high overhead, the animals had decided that it was okay to move around, as long as they stayed in the warm sunshine.  Dean quickly discovered that they were correct, and he kept in the sunshine, letting the light warm his skin.  He never thought that he would miss this, but after days and days of being cooped up underground with Castiel, it was impossible not to miss the sunshine.

He walked for some time, enjoying the brisk air and the warmth of the sun. He walked until his leg began to hurt, and by that time he was standing by the edge of a small stream, the water flowing clear and cold in front of him.  Dean sat down by the brook, near to the edge, leaning against a rock and peering into the water.  Fish swam about unhurriedly, trout and perch flitting back and forth under the water.  Dean felt his stomach rumble; he never had been much of a fish person, but after nearly two weeks of eating nothing but fruits and vegetables, he would do anything for some meat.

The rock he was propped up against was warm, unlike the air around him, and it was no time at all before Dean had drifted off to sleep.  He didn’t wake again until something startled him awake, and when he opened his eyes he was startled by the sight of Castiel, kneeling beside him and frowning down at him.

“Cas?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping here, Dean.  It is cold out here, and there are monsters in this forest.”

“Monsters?” Dean gasped, blinking awake and jerking forward.  Castiel gripped his arm, steadying him before he toppled himself over into the brook.  When he looked up at Castiel again he saw his bright smile, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed, and he scowled.  He reached out and slugged Cas in his side, glaring at him.

“You’re an _ass_ ,” he growled.  Castiel laughed even louder.

“So you’ve said,” he said, standing up and offering his hand out to Dean.  “But you should have seen your face.  Silly human; there's no such thing as monsters."

Dean narrowed his eyes.  "There's such a thing as  _you_ ," he snapped.  Castiel shrugged.

"Yes, but I am not a monster.  And you really should not be sleeping out here; it is cold and you could become ill."

“I’m fine,” Dean grunted, gripping Castiel’s hand and hoisting himself up.  His fingers tingled where they pressed against Cas’s, but just as soon as he had taken the nymph’s hand he was pulling away.  It would be no use having a crush on this wood nymph.  Castiel would never feel the same way, anyway.

Castiel watched Dean intently, helping him stand up straight. "Hurry up now, the tarts are getting cold. And I know you're hungry, I can hear your stomach growlinf. It was growling in your sleep too," he teased. Dean blushed. 

"Jeez Cas, you sure know the way to a man's heart is through his stomach," he said, smiling brightly. Castiel blushed and looked away.

“You know,” Dean continued after a long stretch of silence, when they were halfway back to the cottage, “I think I figured out a way that we can catch fish.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” Castiel answered.  Dean frowned.

“I thought you said you were just a bad hunter?” He asked, and then when Castiel said nothing in response, he couldn’t help but smirk.  “Y’know, vegetarian is just an old Indian work for ‘bad hunter’.”

Castiel frowned.  “That is… highly inaccurate,” he said, his nose scrunched up in confusion.  “Where did you get that information?  Who is the source of these lies?”

Dean couldn’t help it.  He doubled over with laughter, practically howling from the force of it.  Castiel stopped as well, his frown only becoming deeper when Dean slung an arm over his shoulder, leaning into him and pressing his face into his side.  It was only when he felt tears against his bare skin that he realized Dean was crying.  He was laughing so hard that he was _crying_.

“Dean…”

“You should– Oh God, _Cas_ , I’ve never– _Shit_ ,” he broke off again, doubling over and slapping at his right leg.  Castiel raised his eyebrows, unable to stop the amused smirk that spread across his face when Dean grabbed at his stomach and cried, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna piss my _pants_!”

“I still don’t understand what’s going on,” Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle, resting his hand on Dean’s back and shaking his head.  “But obviously it is very funny.”

“You take everything so seriously!” Dean laughed, grinning up at Castiel and clapping him on the side.  “Oh God, Cas… Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.”

Castiel couldn’t help but smile a little at that.  If Dean was going to brighten up his life, then Castiel was happy that he could brighten Dean’s as well.


	8. The Sensation of Falling

Another full week passed before Dean finally badgered Castiel into taking him out fishing.  His leg was still healing, but at a very slow pace.  He couldn’t walk for more than a mile without needing to sit down and rest, and he still needed his walking stick to get him around.  Not that he had really expected much different.  In terms of compound fractures, he was actually very lucky.  He’d heard of people losing their legs from injuries like the one he had, but altogether he seemed to be healing properly (if not with an awkwardly bent limb that was significantly shorter than its pair).  Castiel accredited the Echinacea Root.  Dean owed it all to the ever enduring Winchester Spirit™.

Once he’d finally worn Cas down enough to get him agree to go fishing, the next challenge had been procuring fishing equipment.  Castiel had plenty of thread (When he’d asked to borrow some, Dean had been regaled with Castiel’s story of how he _procured_ the thread from some French settler named René-Robert Cavelier, a billion years ago or something.  It was probably more like the 1670’s, but that was beside the point.  And though he would never admit it, Dean had actually enjoyed the story very much.  He always enjoyed listening to Castiel's stories.)  He was able to easily find two decent sized sticks that he would carve into the rods, and using his switch blade he was able to carve small holes through the top of the sticks that would allow him to set up a sort of pulley system for the thread.  The hardest part was finding the correct material for a hook; birch root was too soft, and pine was too brittle.  It took him days to find the correct materials, and when he was just starting to give up hope, it had been Castiel who presented him with the elm root.  They’d whittled them into hooks together.

Which was what brought them to the side of a small stream (a different one than the one Den had found a week prior) about half a mile away from Castiel’s cottage, sitting on the edge of the bank and baiting their hooks quietly.  Well, not _too_ quietly.

“Dude, fish don’t eat _berries_ ,” Dean scolded fondly, reaching out and batting Cas’s hand away from the elm root fishing hook.  Mulberries scattered all over the forest floor, and Castiel scowled, turning his attention towards collecting the small fruits as Dean wrestled the hook away.  “You need to put something tasty on there for them.  Like a worm!”

“Dean, I don’t–” Castiel paused when he turned back to Dean and saw the human holding aloft the fishing hook triumphantly, a fat, brown thing still squirming where it was impaled on the hook.  He rolled his eyes.  “That isn’t even a worm, Dean.  It’s a caterpillar.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, exasperated but gentle, a wide smile plastered on his face as if he were a dumb child.  “Point is, the fish ain’t gonna bite if you’ve got freakin’ mulberries on the line.  You gotta give them some meat.”

Castiel shook his head, taking his fishing line back from Dean and picking the mangled caterpillar off of the hook.  He tossed it into the stream, watching it float away downstream as he spoke.  “How about I use my fruit, and you use your caterpillars, and we will see who catches more fish?”

Dean laughed. “Oh buddy, you are _on_.  Like white on rice,” Dean grinned, nudging Castiel in the ribs.  “Weren’t you just sayin’ earlier how you’ve never fished in your life?”

“So far as you know,” he agreed, tipping his head back and forth, his lips twitching up into a small smirk as he baited his hook with a large berry.  “I could have been bluffing.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean rolled his eyes, turning away from Cas and picking up his own line, which was already baited with a thick, black and white speckles caterpillar.  He tossed his line in at just the same time as Castiel, smiling over at the wood nymph happily.  “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

“I take it you go fishing a lot, back home?” Castiel asked, unable to keep the humor from his voice.  Watching Dean like this, so excited that he looked just about ready to burst, it was impossible not to let Dean’s joy be contagious.  It seemed that way more and more often, as Dean’s and his routines began to mesh and the human became a steady fixture in his life in this forest.  Dean’s personality was catching, his optimism infectious, his soul blinding.

Castiel would be overcome sometimes, when he would catch himself watching over the human fondly, by the sensation of _falling.  (_ Though falling into what, or _for_ what, he wasn’t entirely sure.  All he knew is that he was certainly scared of it, whatever it was).

“Dad used to take me,” Dean’s voice drew Castiel’s attention back to the present, and he shifted against the rock he was perched on, listening intently to what his human companion had to say.  “There was this little pond out in the woods by our house.  We’d hike a couple miles to get there and then spend the whole day fishin’ and goofin’ around,” his features brightened as he spoke, a smile blooming on his handsome face.  “When Sammy got older he’d come too, but he never really had the patience for the fishing.  Usually he’d just get in the water and go swimmin’, splashin’ around and scare all the fish away,” he chuckled, shaking his head.  “I remember one time, man, I caught this huge fish.  I think it was a pickerel or something, ‘cuz it bit me.  And it must have been–“ Dean set his pole down between his legs, balancing it there so that he could spread his hands about shoulder-width apart, indicating the size of the fish he’d caught.  His smile was brighter than even the fading sunlight beyond the trees, Castiel noted.  “–three feet long at least.  Gave me a nasty scar, too,” he added, holding his right thumb up to show off a shiny-looking patch of skin along the side of his finger.  He seemed proud of it. 

“That must have been quite a feat,” Castiel said, glancing down at his line when he saw a ripple in the water.  Dean must have seen it too, or else noticed how Castiel became distracted, because his head snapped towards the direction of the ripple as well.  But neither of them moved to pull their lines from the water, and so they both relaxed again, though they did seem to focus more on the water than before.  They were both taking this competition very seriously.  “Did you eat the pickerel?”

“Shit, no way,” Dean laughed.  Castiel’s brow creased in confusion.

“Well then, what did you do with it?  Did you keep it as a pet?”

At that Dean began to laugh, holding his belly and squeezing his eyes shut.  Castiel only frowned harder, now royally confused, as Dean cackled at some unheard joke.

“ _Dude_ ,” he finally wheezed, wiping the corners of his eyes.  “You’re gonna give me a hernia one of these days, I swear.  Humans don’t keep lake fish as pets,” he snorted, breaking off into another round of giggles and slapping his thigh.  “And you can’t eat pickerel, anyway.  Well, I guess you can, but I never did.  These pickerel were from a lake.  If you ate them, they’d taste all gamey.”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully.  “I see.  But I still don’t understand– If you were fishing for food, why wouldn’t you eat what you had caught?”

“You can fish for fun too, Cas,” Dean shifted on his rock, trying to catch more sunlight.  It was suddenly chilly, the trees around them bristling with the mid-September wind.  “Catch and release.  It’s not the same as fishin’ for food; s’more relaxing.  Like, uh… Weavin’ a blanket or baking.  Something you do to unwind.”

Castiel pursed his lips.  “Baking is dangerous, I don’t find it relaxing at all,” he announced, and Dean’s face fell with the realization that Castiel still didn’t understand.  The nymph continued.  “But I do enjoy weaving.  I was going to start making a new blanket soon, actually.  A thicker one, so you won’t be cold when the winter comes.  It doesn’t seem like you will be leaving anytime soon.”

Dean’s face heated up quickly, despite the cold, and he looked away from Cas as he nodded.  Castiel’s face scrunched up, and he was just about to ask Dean is he had said something wrong when he felt a quick tug at his line.  His head jerked in the direction of the stream, a flurry of movement under the water drawing his attention as his line started to move away with the current.  He scrambled to grab at the threat, catching it just in time so that the spool didn’t run out.  He jerked back, a beautiful rainbow trout flying out of the water and landing on the shoreline at his feet.

Dean gaped at him as he picked the flopping fish up, carrying it over to a rock several feet away from the water.  He removed the hook from it’s mouth, mulberry long gone, and frowned down at the gasping fish as it flopped around on top of the rock.  A few seconds passed where he simply stared at the creature, and then Dean was by his side, hopping on one leg and carrying a knife in hand.

“Come on, Cas, you gotta kill the poor bastard,” he grunted, leaning against the rock and reaching over with the knife.  He sliced the fish’s head off with one flick of the wrist, the rock staining with its blood as he tossed the head to the side.  Then he flipped the fish over, slicing open its belly and gutting it clean.  Castiel gagged beside him, turning away and hurling into the bushes.  Dean’s eyebrows shot up.

“What, you can do surgery on me and sew me back together, but you can’t handle a little fish guts?” His lips quirked up and he retrieved the discarded fish head from the ground, laughing and waving it in Castiel’s face when he stood up again.  He gagged again, face going green, and turned to throw up once more.  Dean’s nose crinkled.

“Dude, seriously?  You’re the toughest guy I know; you almost choked your own cousin to death, for Pete’s sake!” He huffed, dropping the dead fish back on to the rock and wiping the blood off his pants.  He wrapped an arm around Castiel’s side, helping him to stand upright.  He cleaned Castiel’s mouth off with the sleeve of his shirt.  “You alright?” He asked tentatively, genuine concern in his voice.  Castiel nodded, his gaze shifting cautiously towards the dead fish.  He scowled.

“I am not eating that,” he mumbled.  Dean chuckled.

“No problem, man,” he patted Cas’s chest, smiling up at him.  “But it was a good catch.  You wanna do some more fishing, or are you done?”

“We can keep going,” Castiel agreed, shuffling towards their old place by the shoreline.  Dean picked up the discarded trout as he was following Cas, tucking the meat safely into the deerskin pouch they had brought with them for just that purpose.  He made sure to move the bag away from Castiel, though, just in case it started to smell and he was going to get sick again.

“So,” Dean started, picking up his line again and toying with the thread.  “I take it you weren’t bluffing when you said you’ve never been fishing before.”

“No,” Castiel admitted, letting out a soft sigh and glancing over in Dean’s direction.  “I’m sorry for purging like that at the sight of your dinner.  I hope I have not upset your appetite.”

“No way, no way,” Dean answered, chuckling a bit before he looked over at Castiel seriously.  “And don’t apologize, man.  Some things just get to us sometimes.  Don’t sweat it,” he paused, letting his words sink in before he added thoughtfully, “Though, if you’re so disgusted by fish, I’d really like to know how the hell you knew that trout would eat your berries.”

“Just a lucky guess, it seems,” Castiel smirked, his face lighting up with a smug smile when he saw the scowl on Dean’s face.  He laughed, shaking his head.  “I kid you. I spent many years observing the Caddo people and their ways, Dean.  They always used berries in order to catch fish,” he said, tossing his line out again once he’d baited it up.  “And they did this for decades.  I simply assumed that, though it has been a few hundred years, the fish can’t be much different now than they were then.”

“Huh,” Dean mused, his eyebrow quirked thoughtfully.  “Smart.”

“Yes.  The Caddo were a very resourceful people,” he paused, thinking for a moment before he added.  “They taught me a great deal. I watched them often. They were the only people I ever knew for a very long time.”

Dean was silent, contemplative.  After quite some time (enough time for Dean to reel his line in, replace his caterpillar with some mulberries, and cast it out again) he spoke.  “So I guess I’m the first human you’ve met in a while?”

“Like I said, humans–”

“ _Do not typically come out this way_ , I know,” Dean teased, a lighthearted smile warming his face.  He nudged Cas’s side.  “I hope I’ve been good company.”

Castiel seemed to interpret his statement as a literal expression, and he hummed thoughtfully, nodding.  “I do find I am growing quite fond of our amity with each other.”

Dean’s heart pounded in his chest.  He swallowed thickly.  “Yeah, well.  Hopefully you won’t get too lonely when I’m gone,” he chuckled.  Castiel frowned, his eyes falling to his lap.  Silence fell between them and it only took a few seconds for it to become awkward.  He reached out and nudged Cas’s shoulder.

“Hey, maybe we’ll find you some nice _amity_ at the Celestial Orgy.  This weekend, remember?”

Castiel nodded, though he didn’t look convinced.  He jerked at his line, eyes on the water, watching it ripple with movement beneath the surface.  Both of them could see fish beneath the surface, swimming close enough to their berries that if they wanted to bite they could.  But it seemed that every time one of those fish came close to taking the bait, they swam away, forgetting the mulberries as soon as they had seen them.

They sat in relative silence for quite some time, until Dean grew tired of not catching anything and reeled his line in.  He was just about to suggest to move to a different spot when he saw a flurry of movement among the leaves, and he yelped, jerking back away from the yellow and white rat snake slithering in front of him.  He toppled right over and fell into the stream, splashing about in a panic before he realized that the water wasn’t even that deep; no more than a foot.

“Dean!” Castiel gasped, throwing his rod off to the side and rushing forward.  He gripped onto Dean’s arm, hoisting him from the water.  He shivered as he emerged from the water, cool air and wind seeming to attack him out of nowhere.  His teeth chattered and he stomped his way back onto land, away from the water, jerking his shirt off and tossing it to the side.  Then he did the same with his pants, holding himself and shaking in the cold air.

It was the first time that Castiel had seen the human naked.  Well, mostly naked.  His throat closed up and a sweat broke out on his forehead, and he suddenly felt as if the space between himself and Dean was too small and too large at the same time.  He swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming over Dean’s built body; corded muscles that flexed with his ever movement, even the slightest ones; broad chest and plated chest; perky nipples that stood out in the cold; tan, freckled skin with water droplets clinging to it desperately, as if even they could not resist to let go of the Adonis.

He was the most beautiful thing Castiel had ever seen in his life.

The reaction that Dean was inspiring in his body was embarrassing.  As Dean’s cheeks turned red from the cold, Castiel’s turned red from his unexpected provocation.  He stepped forward, reaching for Dean and grasping his shoulder.  The man went stiff as a board, looking up at Cas with a shocked expression, and in one moment the two of them had disapparated from the forest and were standing together in front of the fireplace in Castiel’s cottage, pressed so close that their bare chests were touching.

Dean didn’t step away.  It was Castiel who broke contact, jerking away from the human as if he had been burned.  He coughed, turning away, and walked over to the bed.  From beneath the cot he pulled a large chest, prying it open and rifling through its contents.

“I have a habit that you can wear around your waist while your clothes dry.  Would you like a coat as well?” He asked, not bothering to glance back at Dean even as he pulled clothes out from within the chest.  He laid them out on the bed in front of him, first a plain white skirt-like garment, next a deerskin coat with fur lining on the inside.  He had never worn it; it had been his father’s.  But he was sure that Dean would find it comfortable.

As the human slipped it on, Castiel couldn’t help but the way his stomach flipped.  He remembered being young, very young and still growing out his limbs, and looking up at his father wearing that very same jacket.  He’d known, looking up at him, that one day he would be wearing that jacket just like his father.  And now, looking at Dean, watching him full it close around his body and rub his face against the soft fur…

That word came back to him again. _Intimacy_.

“I need to go,” Castiel blurted out suddenly and loudly.  Dean looked up at him with wide emerald eyes, taken about by his sudden outburst.  Castiel nearly swallowed his tongue.  “Our– our stuff.  It’s back there.  Your fish,” he turned away, squeezing his eyes shut.  “Stay by the fire and warm yourself.  I will be back shortly.”

He didn’t return again until the wee hours of the morning, and when he did, he made sure to keep away from the human who was sleeping in his bed.  To keep away from his hedonistic thoughts.  But he quickly discovered that it was no use, and his fantasies plagued him like locusts and kept him up all night.

There was one thing for certain as Castiel gazed upon the sleeping human from his kitchen: Castiel he knew what he was falling for now.  And though he was almost certain that it was something worth falling for, he was also definitely certain that he was screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there really are [fruit-eating fish!](http://www.nytimes.com/1988/02/02/science/in-the-quiet-world-of-fruit-eating-fish-a-biologist-feels-too-alone.html?pagewanted=all) I actually just learned this today while writing this chapter. Kinda cool.
> 
>  **PLEASE comment! I'm dying here guys... Literally *cough* dying...**  
>  Check out Part 2 of the Ouachita Forest Verse for an exclusive Dean/Lisa/Balthazar sex scene! :)


	9. What Happens In The Forest, Stays In The Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Dean Winchester/Lisa Braeden/Balthazar

In a vast clearing in the wood, there were no trees of bushes of any kind. Mossy grass covered the floor of the valley, posies and starlets of every color dotting the landscape here and there. A stream, so small in its size that it would probably be more accurate to classify it as a trickle, ran down from a hill on the left side of the valley and fed into a spring at the base of the hill, the fresh water shimmering darkly in the moonlight as dazzlingly beautiful women with long tails and naked bodies splashed about inside the pool. Water clung to them; shapely breasts and curvy hips swaying flagrantly as they dipped in and out of the spring.

Sirens, thought Dean, as he took in the sight of their gorgeous forms swaying in the crystalline water. Nymphs and fairies, naked, chased each other in circles around the pool as they shrieked and giggled. The fragrance of marijuana, spicy and sweet, hung heavy in the air and drew him in closer towards the party. Castiel followed close behind, nearly heal to toe with the human, looking around warily at the festivities around them. He was nervous, Dean could tell. It was okay, though. Dean would make sure that he had a good time.

“Cassie!” A rather distinct voice called from somewhere amongst the crowd, and Dean and Castiel both stopped walking to look around. Through the plumes of smoke came bounding a tall, thin man, naked from the waist up and holding a half-eaten pomegranate in his hand. His grin was devilish, and it lit up his entire face, hazel eyes glowing behind curly wisps of blonde hair. Like Castiel he was covered in vines, though his were much more abundant than the wood nymph’s and grew leaves rather than flowers. They covered his entire body thickly, his pale skin only visible through the thicket in some spots, and they twisted all the way from his toes to his neck, curling delicately around his pointy ears where they ended. Dean could only gape at the creature in awe as he bounded forward, slinging his arms around Castiel’s neck and practically hanging off of him.

“Balthazar,” Castiel greeted, his voice all business, and Balthazar laughed at the sound of it. He pressed his nose into Castiel’s neck, hot air puffing against his skin. Castiel could have smelled the wine on his breath from a mile away. “I thought you had moved away? Gone to Appalachia to tame Tailypo, is what I heard.”

“Ah yes, it is so. But now I am back; the Alabama heat is simply atrocious,” Balthazar complained loudly, swaying his hips to the music of the sirens. His fingers carded through Castiel’s hair seemingly on their own accord, and surprisingly, Castiel made no move to stop them. Dean felt a pang of jealousy low in his stomach, and he looked away, towards the sirens again. They were quite beautiful.

“As if it is not disgustingly hot out here,” he heard Castiel mutter. Balthazar laughed.

“Ah yes, well. The mountains are no place for a Meadow Nymph. I had to return to my home. And besides,” Balthazar smirked, leaning in closer to whisper in Castiel’s ear, as if he weren’t going to yell what he was saying anyway. “I’ve found myself a mate.”

“A mate?” Castiel’s brow quirked with curiosity. “Who is it?”

“Lisa,” Balthazar announced proudly. “She is Naiad, and beautiful, too. I mistook her for a siren the first time I saw her. Lucky for me, too, because I would have been eaten if she had been!” he said with a roar of laughter, pulling back from Castiel and biting into his pomegranate. He wasn’t hanging off of Castiel so much anymore, but he still had his arm around the nymph’s neck, and together they looked around at the rest of the party. “So what brings you here tonight, my friend?”

“My cousin Gabriel invited me.”

“So? You are invited every year, and you never come. What has made this year different?” he questioned, his lips curling into a devilish smirk. “Have you finally given up on single life and decided to come look for a companion?”

Castiel huffed, rolling his eyes. “No. In fact, I only came here tonight at Dean’s insistence,” he answered, turning away from Balthazar to gesture towards Dean. Or, at least, towards where Dean had been just moments ago. His brow furrowed in confusion when he saw that the human had disappeared, and he whirled around again, his lips pursed. “He is gone.”

“Hmm,” Balthazar hummed thoughtfully, taking another bite of from his pomegranate, some of the juice dribbling down his chin and down his chest. “Your mate has abandoned you?”

“He’s not my mate,” Castiel muttered petulantly. “He is human. I don’t…,” Castiel trailed off, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked towards the pool where the sirens were bathing. A figure stood beside the pool, hastily discarding their clothing, shirt pulled up over their face and chest exposed. One of the sirens reached out to touch his bare chest, and the man jumped, tugging his shirt off the rest of the way and exposing his face.

It was Dean.

“That is him,” he said, squinting in his direction. “I don’t know why he is disrobing…”

“He is going to jump into the pool!” Balthazar realized before Castiel, and he sprang forward urgently, rushing towards the pool with Castiel close on his heels. He managed to reach the human just in time, slinging his arms around his waist and pulling him back towards land just as he jumped up to dive in. Dean struggled against Balthazar’s strong hold, yelling at him.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your life,” Balthazar answered gruffly, spinning Dean around and, in one fluid motion, pinning him to the ground and straddling his lap. Dean blinked up at him dazedly, cheeks flushed and chest rising and falling rapidly. Balthazar chuckled, looking from Dean and then to Cas. “Oh, my. You didn’t tell me how gorgeous he was.”

Dean grunted, shoving at Balthazar and squirming free of his grip. He let him go, looking up at Dean expectantly as he shook himself off. Finally, he turned to glare at Balthazar.

“Dude, I was about to get laid. What gives?”

Balthazar chuckled. “If you were looking to get laid, I could probably offer you a much less deadly alternative,” he stood gracefully, and when he was standing upright he towered over Dean by almost a foot. He gestured waywardly towards the spring, where the sirens were still dancing erotically. “They are monsters, sweetheart. They will eat your face off before you’ve even gotten the chance to touch their breast.”

Dean swallowed, casting a sideways glance back at the sirens and then up at Balthazar. “Oh,” he muttered. He chuckled darkly and nodded.

“Oh, indeed. Now, of course, if you really were looking to be sexually deviant tonight, I am sure that my mate and I would love to get you alone. I have not seen a human as beautiful as you since the seventeenth century, I think.”

Dean’s cheeks turned dark red, and he turned to look up at Cas, who shrugged. Dean swallowed thickly. “Cas, I was supposed to –“

“Dean, I came here tonight with no intention of sleeping with any of these people. I have eyes for none of them,” he murmured. Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed ominously in his throat, and he suddenly felt as if the clearing in the woods was quite too small. The tension rose as he and Castiel stood there, staring at each other, only to be broken up by the sound of Balthazar clearing his throat.

“Excuse me? Are you going to take my offer, or are you two really mated after all?” There was an awkward silence that fell over the three of them, and then Balthazar sent Castiel a knowing look. “You know there is no shame in taking a human lover, Cassie.”

“I know that,” he hissed back, then reached out and pushed Dean towards the Leimoniad. “Go Dean, enjoy yourself. Balthazar is safe, and so is his mate. She is quite beautiful, as well. You will take pleasure in both of them, I am sure.”

Dean nodded, eyes locked with Balthazar’s, and the man smiled lecherously. He took Dean’s hand in his own, pulling the half-naked man closer and kissing him flush on the mouth. Dean groaned, arms flailing until they came to rest on Balthazar’s biceps, tugging at the thick vines that wrapped around his chorded muscles there. He let out a pitiful groan at the sensation, his hips moving on their own accord as his cock swelled in his pants.

“Come with me, human,” he gasped desperately, leading Dean away through the thick smoke. Creatures of all kinds frolicked about the valley; fairies flitted from one place to another, nymphs of all kinds shared drinks and made love on the mossy forest floor, satyrs with their horns and their hunting sticks made way through the crowds as if on a mission. Dean was struck by all of the sights before him, all of the creatures, and just when he was beginning to feel dizzy from all of the overwhelming thoughts in his head he was thrust down onto the mossy floor, his head landing on the soft belly of a beautiful woman with dark, curly hair.

“Who is this, my love?” She asked, her fingers immediately carding through his hair. The sensation of her fingers scraping against his scalp both soothed and aroused him, and he let his eyes fluttered closed, a high keen escaping his throat.

“He is a human, Lisa; a friend of Castiel’s,” Balthazar’s fingers went to Dean’s waist, and he slowly began to pry away his boxers, the last article of clothing that he hadn’t stripped away before jumping into the spring. He loomed over him, breath ghosting Dean’s belly, and dragged his tongue all the way from his hip to his navel. Dean moaned softly, and Balthazar chuckled. “Tell my mate your name, sweet one.”

“Dean,” he rasped, green eyes fluttering open to look up at the woman before him. She smiled brightly, shifting so that his head was in her lap rather than on her stomach, and leaned forward so that her breasts dangled over him and her hair fell into his face.

“It is the word for valley, your name,” she said thoughtfully, and in a moment she had slipped out from under him and was clambering on top of his body, straddling his chest. “And fitting, too. Your soul is bright and vast, like the dell.” She grinned, leaning down to suckle at his neck and taste his skin. She let out a soft sigh against his cheek, and her breath smelled just as much of wine as Balthazar’s had. “Beautiful.”

“Lift your hips, Dean,” Balthazar’s voice seemed far away, but Dean knew he was right there; could feel his hands on his waist. He lifted his hips for the nymph and felt his boxers being torn away, tossed to the side unforgotten somewhere. The cool air against his skin startled him and he jerked his hips, crying out suddenly when Balthazar’s warm, solid hand was wrapped around his cock. Lisa cooed at Dean, nipping at his neck and pressing her breasts to his own chest.

“Shush, Dean. We will make you feel good.”

He whined softly, lifting his hands up in the air, but seemingly unable to place them. Lisa reached out and took one of them, placing it on her own breast and guiding him to squeeze. “You can touch,” she whispered, and Dean whined again, one hand tangling into her beautiful hair as he began to fuck his cock into Balthazar’s calloused fist.

It was only as he was stroking her hair back, fingers tangled in her dark locks, that Dean realized that Lisa was not as human as he thought she was. Beneath her ears, at the apex of her head and her neck, a set of gills glinted in the moon light. Dean’s throat went dry and he stared in wonder as the muscles there flexed, searching for water to breath with. Lisa chuckled, obviously noticing him staring, and reached out to thumb at his plush lips.

“I breath with my gills. You breath with your lips,” she whispered, then leaned down and kissed him. Dean moaned, hands flying to embrace her, pulling her close and pressing her breasts up against his body more. He suddenly felt something tickling his inner thighs, something scruffy, and he let out an obscene moan when he felt something wet pressing up against his asshole. A tongue. Balthazar was licking him. Rimming him.

“What is he doing to you?” Lisa murmured curiously as she pulled away from the kiss, and Dean blushed scarlet when he realized that Balthazar licking his ass must have affected his kissing skill pretty negatively if she had noticed. But sue him for being distracted; some hot nymph had his tongue up Dean’s ass. And it had been so long.

“Ah,” Understanding dawned on Lisa when she turned back to see her mate with his head between Dean’s legs, and then she grinned, spinning to look at Dean again. Her eyes shone brightly. “Would you like to do that to me? Eat me out?”

“Uh…,” Dean swallowed thickly, at a loss for words. Was this girl seriously asking him if he wanted to eat her out? Since when would anybody eversay no to that? He nodded vehemently, his mouth watering as she sat up and began to shuffle forward. He could already feel how wet her pussy was, dripping against his chest. All he wanted was to just bury his face in it and eat.

He watched with rapt attention as she climbed over his face, her knees bent so that she could keep herself upright as he ate her out. His tongue flicked upward, tasting her. She was clean, fresh, with a slight tang of salt to her. Like the water of a flowing river. He groaned loudly and tilted his chin up, diving in for more, taking a longer swipe this time and letting his tongue push past the folds of her pussy. His arms flew up to grip at her legs, pulling her closer so that he could suck her in.

She was delicious. It was making his cock throb and leak all over his stomach.

When Balthazar pulled away from his ass after a few minutes, Dean couldn’t help the loud, desperate whine he let out in protest. It attracted the attention of several other nymphs nearby, who turned to see what was going on, but quickly went back to their own activities once they realized that nothing special was happening.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I promise I will make you feel good,” Balthazar whispered, wrapping a hand around Dean’s weeping cock and jacking him a few times. Dean squirmed, whimpering, and then Lisa’s hand was on his head and tugging him towards her pussy. He dove back in to eating her out, making up for his momentary distraction by eating her even more vigorously this time.

The first finger breaching his hole didn’t feel much different than Baltahzar’s tongue. It went deeper, and was less wet, but other than that it still felt good. Dean’s legs spread on their own accord and he thrust his hips up, pre-ejaculate leaking from his cock like a broken faucet. He heard Balthazar chuckle as he began to move his single finger in and out at an abhorrently slow pace, and he let out an annoyed huff.

“I think he wants more, Bal,” Lisa said, fingers tugging at Dean’s short brown hair. Dean moaned in agreement, swiping his tongue over Lisa’s clit as a reward, and she moaned right back at him. A second finger slipped into Dean’s ass a moment later, and he groaned, thrusting his hips forward in a daze of pleasure and arousal. He jerked his hips, whining noisily, and Balthazar placated him by giving his cock another squeeze.

“So sexy,” Lisa gasped. “Isn’t he absolutely delicious-looking, Bal?” She ground her hips down against Dean’s face, dripping on him, and he licked her harder; faster. Suddenly she shifted, climbing off of his face, and Dean was left panting as he watched her move around him. Her eyes were hungry, predatory, and he groaned loudly when suddenly Lisa flipped around and took his cock into her mouth. She began to bob up and down rapidly, immediately, slurping and sucking at his erection.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Dean cried out, jerking hip hips forward and pushing his cock deeper into Lisa’s mouth. Her lips sealed around the head of his dick, slurping, and he felt her teeth tugging at his foreskin. He cried out, his hips jerking again as salty semen flooded into Lisa’s mouth. He went boneless beneath her, soft little whines still escaping his mouth every now and then as she continued to lick his oversensitive cock, and Balthazar moved his fingers in and out of his ass faster.

“Oh, he’s all oversensitive now,” Balthazar murmured, spitting at Dean’s hole and slipping at third finger in. Dean gasped, his back arching, arms flying out to grab at anything he could reach. His hands landed on Lisa’s ass, and he squeezed, smiling when she giggled and playfully nipped at the skin near his balls. His cock twitched with interest, but did not fill again just yet, and then Balthazar pulled his fingers free from Dean’s ass.

“Pretty little thing. I haven’t seen a human as beautiful as you since –“ he trailed off on a gasp, Dean’s tight ass squeezing around his cock as he pushed in. He moaned loudly, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes closed. “Oh, fuck! Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve had a human…”

“We know, love. You’ve said it several times,” Lisa laughed, sitting up and reaching out to cup Balthazar’s face. Her mate’s eyelids fluttered shut and she leaned forward, kissing him sweetly and wrapping her arms around his neck. He gasped into her mouth, kissing her fiercely as he rocked forward, his cock enveloped wholly by the tight heat of Dean’s ass. The human moaned lewdly and pushed back against Balthazar, impaling himself on his cock.

They moved in a frantic rhythm. Dean’s cock had swelled up again with arousal, and Lisa was quick to take it back in hand, stroking him to full hardness and toying with him. He returned the favor, fingering her hard and deep, eliciting wonderful moans from the beautiful woman. Her curvy body was the picture of the female sex appeal, and he couldn’t resist the prospect of making her cum. He rubbed at her clit, listening as she hiccupped and laughed, her whole body trembling from the stimulation.

Balthazar came inside of Dean’s ass with a loud moan, his face screwed up with pleasure as he emptied himself into him. His soft cock slipped from Dean’s hole, messy and wet a few moments later, and then he suddenly joined Lisa in giving Dean’s cock attention. He licked as she stroked, and then Dean was next, cumming all over Balthazar’s face. He licked up the cum, humming as he did so, and Dean couldn’t help but find it insanely erotic. He didn’t think he’d ever felt like such a sexual being in his entire life.

Lisa came last, but it was probably the most intense orgasm out of the three of them. With Balthazar kissing her on one end and Dean fingering and stimulating her from the other, it only look another minute or so before her whole body was locking up and she was cumming all over Dean’s chest. He dove forward to suck some of her cum up, groaning at the salty, sweet taste of it. She came a second time from his tongue, and then she was so spent that she collapsed on top of him.

They were all exhausted, and they quickly fell into a light slumber, all piled up on top of each other.

It was three o’clock in the morning when Castiel decided that he was ready to go home. It was early yet, by the standards of the Celestial Orgy, but Cas couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d come here with Dean for a purpose, and now that purpose hadn’t been fulfilled, nor could he find Dean anywhere. Granted, he didn’t want that purpose to be filled, really. Not with anybody here, besides…

“Dean is by that boulder over there, if you’re looking for him,” Gabriel’s arm curled around Castiel’s side, and the nymph let his eyes wander to the place where Gabriel was pointing. He couldn’t help the scowl that formed on his face at the sight of Balthazar and Lisa sleeping with Dean, tangled around him. He heard Gabriel chuckle beside him and she quickly schooled his features, but it was too late. His cousin gave his side a tentative squeeze. “Oh, don’t worry Cousin. He will be sleeping with you instead soon, I’m sure of it.”

“Gabriel…,” he started, but the Oread raised his hand to silence him, smiling fondly over at his cousin instead.

“Don’t worry about it, Castiel. I’m glad that you could make it tonight. Come on, let’s go get drunk.”

Castiel swallowed thickly, nodding. “That sounds… I would like that,” he whispered, tearing his gaze away from Dean’s sleeping form, wiping his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”


	10. Grown Green with Envy

“You forgot to clean your dishes,” Castiel muttered, throwing a dirty wooden cup in Dean’s direction, not even paying attention to whether or not the human caught it.  Luckily he did, grasping the cup before it could clatter to the floor and looking curiously in Cas’s direction.  It was late, almost three o’clock in the afternoon by Dean’s estimate, but both he and Cas had slept in.  They’d only gotten home in the wee hours of the morning, both exhausted from the Celestial Orgy.

The Orgy itself had been a wonderful party.  There had been dancing, singing and drinking for everyone, and both Dean and Castiel had a wonderful time.  At least, Dean had enjoyed himself, and he was pretty sure that Cas had enjoyed himself as well.  He and Gabriel had made up as far as he could tell, considering that he had caught them singing love songs back and forth to each other over a barrel of aged whiskey.  Castiel had seemed happy during the party, but now he couldn’t be so sure.  He had been in a foul mood all morning.

“Sorry.  I was so focused on chopping the wood for the fire, I must have forgotten.”

It was impossible to miss Castiel’s annoyed sigh, and as he set a clean plate to the side and picked up the next one to be washed, he spared a glance in the direction of the fire pit.  His face screwed up into a scowl.

“Yes, well, you didn’t do a very good job with the wood either,” he snapped.  Dean frowned, a lump forming in his throat.  The tone of Castiel’s voice, bitter and aggravated, was setting him on edge.  His face burned with shame, as if he were a kindergartener being chastened by his teacher, and he chewing at his bottom lip nervously.  Something wasn’t right.  He stood carefully, balancing on his good leg and slowly starting forward.

“Cas?”

“You’re not supposed to cut the pieces so small, Dean.  Now we’re going to have to sit by the fire and feed it all day to keep it from going out.  I thought you knew what you were doing,” he muttered, slamming another cup onto the counter by the sink.  He winced at the noise, screwing his eyes shut and letting his head hang low.  Dean raised his eyebrows.

“You hungover, buddy?” Dean asked, shuffling forward some more so that he was standing right beside Castiel.  The nymph sighed, less annoyed this time, and nodded.

“It appears so.”

“You have a good time last night?” Dean chuckled, reaching out to pick up the clean, wet dishes and start drying them.  At the mention of last night Castiel’s face screwed up into another scowl, and he turned away, picking up another dirty dish and dunking it into the sink full of soapy water.

“I suppose.  I know that _you_ certainly had a good time,” he answered, his tone becoming bitter and– if Dean was not mistaken– resentful.  Castiel’s words made his stomach twist with discomfort, and he remained silent, waiting for Castiel to continue.  “Balthazar seemed to take a great liking to you.” 

Dean swallowed thickly.  “He and his mate are very nice.  We had a good time together,” Dean admitted, a lump forming in his throat at the look on Castiel’s face.  He looked… angry.  Was he angry at Dean?  What could he have possibly done to upset the guy, anyway?

“You’ll be seeing them again?  I assume.” He practically snarled.  Dean took a step back, setting the dish in his hands back down and setting his arms on the counter, tapping at it nervously.

“Okay Cas, what gives?  Are you pissed at me ‘cuz I left you last night?  Because I asked and you said you were fine with it.  I didn’t want you to–“

“No, Dean,” Castiel said, holding his hand up to the human’s face.  The blatant act of disrespect chafed at Dean’s self-restraint, and he clenched his jaw angrily as Castiel continued to avert his eyes.

“Are you jealous or something?” Dean snapped.  The nymph’s nose scrunched up, and he snorted, as if the mere notion was unbelievable.

“Excuse me, Dean.  Jealousy is a human emotion,” he said distastefully.  Dean felt his words like a punch in the stomach.  “You and _Balthazar_ can do whatever you want to each other.”

Dean scowled, shifting so that his arms were crossed over his chest.  “No, you’re obviously pissed at me, and I wanna know why.  You got a thing for him or something?  Balthazar?  Or his mate?” He raised his eyebrows at Cas, putting his hands up in the air.  “I’ll back off if you do, Han Solo style.  I swear.”

Castiel’s jaw clenched and he remained silent, his eyes trained on the dish in his hands.  He hadn’t made a move to wash it since the conversation of Balthazar had begun.  He huffed, shaking his head.

“No, Dean.  Balthazar is a friend and nothing more.  Can we change the subject?” He snapped.  Dean’s eyebrows furrowed, and he ignored Castiel’s request, leaning closer.

“So if you haven’t got a thing for him, what is it?  You got a thing for _me_?” he guffawed, picking up the cup in front of him and then setting it back down uselessly.  He licked his lips.  “I know I’m pretty, but come on, man.  No reason to be a bitch about it,” he continued, tone teasing.

When Castiel fell silent, his eyes suddenly downcast towards the floor, a sudden shock of realization rushed through Dean.  _Oh God_ , he thought, _he does have a thing for me_.  His throat suddenly felt tight, sweat beading on his forehead.  His entire body felt as if it was on fire, his belly trembling with nervous excitement.

“Holy shit,” he breathed.  Castiel scowled and turned away, walking towards the door.

“I told you that I did not want to talk about this,” he snapped, picking up his father’s deer skin jacket– the one which Dean had been wearing more and more often lately– from the wall and shrugging it over his shoulders.  “Your pillory is unappreciated.”

The lump in Dean’s throat was still there, but he forced himself to speak up, unable to watch Castiel walk away. “But Cas–”

“My _name_ is Castiel,” the nymph hissed back.  Another punch in the stomach.  Dean took it in stride.

“ _Castiel_ ,” he called, voice soft but firm.  “Don’t leave, okay?  I’m not makin’ fun of you.  It’s just…,” he trailed off, lips moving but no words coming out.  He didn’t even know what to say.  Castiel huffed, annoyed, and turned away again.  Suddenly, Dean became frustrated.  “Dude, can you not leave?  I’m just a little confused right now.  I need a minute,” he said.  Castiel stopped, but did not turn back, listening.  Dean heaved a heavy sigh, squeezing his eyes shut so that he could think.

If Castiel really did have a _thing_ for him, if he wanted to _be_ with Dean, the human couldn’t say that he would really be opposed to it.  The thought, though unbidden at times, had crossed his mind more than once that Castiel would make a very attractive lover.  And his personality– the way he cared, the way he sacrificed, the way he _loved_ – Dean was certain that he had never met anybody in his life who had as much heart as Castiel did.  He saw the world differently than others; he valued every life he encountered and he took care to protect everything that he valued.

He was special.  There was no doubt about that.

Dean had imagined in depth, over the past few weeks, all of the things that Dean would do to him if he could get his hands on Castiel’s body.  The way he would worship his body and care for him, reciprocating for all of the times that Castiel had cared for him over the past six weeks.  He would take Castiel apart and out him back together, make him feel good, make him feel loved.  Because that was what he deserved.

“Why me, Cas?” He blurted the question out the moment he thought it, unable to restrain his curiosity.  “You… If it really is _me_ that you want.  I just don’t get it.  You’re such a wonderful person.  I think you’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I know what a great guy you really, genuinely are.  You don’t do a single thing with any ulterior motive in mind,” he swallowed thickly, his bad leg shaking a little when he put pressure on it.  He shifted his body weight to his other side.  “I mean, you deserve the best.  You deserve the world.  Why would you want me?  I’m just a lousy human, and I… I don’t deserve you.”

Castiel turned around slowly, and when Dean saw his face he realized that the wood nymph was crying.  It wasn’t much, but his eyes were red and blotchy, and so were his cheeks.  He didn’t move from where he stood, fidgeting nervously with the lapels of his coat.  Dean realized he must be embarrassed.  He had never wanted Dean to find out about his crush on him; he was ashamed of it.

_Ashamed to love a human, probably._

“I am very confused right now, Dean,” he admitted, voice shaking.  Dean felt his stomach flip.  “I have never felt these… these emotions before.  I have never craved closeness before, not with anyone.”  He let his head hang in shame, his jaw clenched.  “It appears that there has been a change.  A shift, in my desires.”

Dean’s throat was tight.  “What’s that mean?”

“I want you, Dean.  I… I cannot describe how I want you, but I know that I do.  And when I saw you with Balthazar, it felt… I felt like I was being eaten alive from the inside.  I felt like I had been robbed of something that I know I never possessed in the first place.  I felt so angry, _so bitter_.  And I was powerless to it.”

Dean fidgeted nervously.  “So you were jealous, then?”

“I do not know what jealousy is,” Castiel admitted, his cheeks coloring.  He was ashamed.  Dean wanted to wrap him in his arms and hold him, but he restrained himself.  He and Cas needed to talk about this.

“Jealousy is like… It’s this fear of losing something, or somebody.  It hurts, and its kind of terrifying.  It’s hard to control, sometimes.  And sometimes…,” Dean swallowed, shaking his head.  “Sometimes we don’t want to control it.  Sometimes we just want that thing or person so bad, we want to fight anybody who threatens to take them away from us.  We’re willing to do anything to keep that person for ourselves.”

“I wanted to hurt Balthazar when he touched you,” Castiel admitted, voice quiet.  His fists clenched and tears welled up in his eyes.  “I wanted to scream at him and fight with him.  I wanted to fight with you.  I felt so hurt.  So… so _powerless_ ,” Castiel whispered, squeezing his eyes shut.  Dean stepped forward, walking slowly towards the doorway.  His hand closed around Castiel’s shoulder and the nymph tensed, looking up at Dean with shimmering blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He wondered aloud, squeezing down on Cas’s shoulder.  Castiel shrugged, and Dean stepped closer, pressing their bodies together.  It was tense for a moment before Castiel’s relaxed, his left hand finding its place on Dean’s hip.  “I wouldn’t have gone with him if you had asked.  I would have stayed with you.  I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But Dean,” Castiel choked, dipping his head and letting his forehead fall to Dean’s shoulder.  His tears were wet against Dean’s bare skin.  “You would have done that for me?  You would have chosen me?”

“Of course I would have,” Dean whispered, arms moving and sliding around Castiel’s neck.  He pressed their bodies closer, so that there was no space between their bare chests.  Skin pressed flush together, damp with sweat and tears.  Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s blotchy cheek, licking the salt away.  “I might just have a _thing_ for you, too,” he admitted with a low chuckle.  Castiel’s breath hitched.

“We are…”

“Idiots?” Dean supplied, a smile lighting up his face.  Castiel laughed, nodding.

“Yes.  Yes, we are idiots,” he whispered, pressing his nose into the crook of Dean’s neck and kissing the skin there lightly.  Dean relaxed into his arms, letting him nose at his skin.  He let out a heavy sigh.

“I still don’t get it, though.  Why it’s me.  If you really have never wanted something like this with _anyone_ ever before… I just don’t get why you would choose me,” Dean frowned.  “What makes me so special?”

“Dean Winchester,” Castiel breathed against his neck, then pulled back, frowning down at him.  “You think you are somehow not worthy of me?  That is the most ludicrous thought you must have ever had in your life.  You are the bravest, strongest man that I have ever known.  Your courage, your devotion… I have never seen a soul as bright and as righteous as yours,” he huffed, shaking his head.  Dean tried to look away from him, but Castiel forced him to keep his head up.  “You are worthy, Dean.  In fact, you are worthy of so much more than me. I could never be as brave as you are every day.  You are a warrior.  You come into forests and you protect our homes from fire and you expect nothing in return.”

“Well, I do get paid on salary, so–”

“From the moment that I found you in that forest, I knew I had been blessed with a gift from the Gods.  I knew that I had to protect you and care for you,” he smiled wryly.  “Though I never expected to fall in love with you.”

Dean’s throat was closing up again.  Castiel was in love with him?  _In love_ , in love?  He blinked up at the towering creature, his eyes tracking the thick vines that traveled along the planes of Castiel’s chest and down towards his waist.  They were going brown now, with the fall, but it didn’t make them any less beautiful.  He suddenly wondered how far down they went, and a blush tinted his cheeks.  He looked away.

“But I’m just a human,” he whispered.  Castiel shrugged.

“Humanity is a wonderful thing, in my opinion.  And you heard what Balthazar said last night; there is no shame in loving a human.”

“I think he was just talking about sex,” Dean muttered.  Castiel nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps.  Interpret his words as you may, but the point is still the same.  You are an admirable man, Dean Winchester.  As I said earlier, this is all very unfamiliar to me.  But I know that I want to be with you.  I want you to be mine,” he said, swallowing thickly and leaning down to press a kiss to Dean’s lips.  “And I want to be yours.”

Dean’s breath hitched, and he tilted his chin up, giving Castiel access to his neck.  The nymph immediately leaned down and began to pepper his skin with kisses and licks.  He shivered.

“You want to be intimate?” He whispered.  Castiel’s entire body shook.

 _“Yes,”_ he groaned.  Dean grinned, shifting so that his arms were wrapped more securely around Castiel’s neck.  He found his lips, catching them in a searing kiss.  Unlike their chaste pecks from earlier, this one was real; a feed for all of the passion and joy and desperation that Dean and Cas were both feeling at the moment.  Cas’s entire body seemed to vibrate, and he pulled Dean closer, his arms snaking around the human’s slender body.  Dean gasped, breaking the kiss and resting his head against Cas’s chest as he panted.

“Let’s take this to the bed.  M’leg is lockin’ up,” he panted.  Castiel’s nodded, shuffling forward a few steps before he realized that Dean was going to hang onto him like a lead weight.  So instead he hoisted the human up, hands firm on his buttocks, and carried him to the bed.  A gleeful smile spread on Dean’s face, and Castiel chuckled, planting a sweet kiss to his mouth.

“You tricked me,” he mumbled.  Dean hummed.

“Not really.  Just stretched the truth a little so you would carry me,” he chuckled, laying back on the cot and pulling Cas down with him, so the nymph was on top of him.  They shuffled a bit until they were both comfortable, lazily resuming their make out session.  It was less hot over here, away from the fire, but both of their bodies were still damp with sweat as they slid against each other.

“How far do you wanna go?” Dean breathed, hands roaming over Castiel’s body; his stomach and his back.  The vines were ticker on his lower back, near his ass, and when Dean tugged at them the nymph let out an obscene moan, his face screwed up in pleasure. 

“As far as you’ll take me,” Castiel whispered against his neck.  Dean groaned. 

“Gotta get my clothes off, then,” he breathed.  Castiel shifted, sitting up, and Dean noted that he was sitting directly between Dean’s thighs.  Their fingers intertwined as they both attempted to pull Dean’s bottoms off at the same time, and the human grinned cheekily, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to Cas’s lips.  “Eager beaver, huh?”

“I am not a beaver, Dean,” Castiel muttered against his skin, a smile playing at his lips.  Dean laughed, rolling his eyes.  He tossed the garment of clothe away, revealing his naked torso to Castiel.  While the nymph let his hands roam Dean’s body explanatorily, Dean laid back, smiling.

“Yeah, I know you’re not a freakin’ beaver.  You’re a goddamn tree,” he paused, eyebrows furrowed.  “Fuck, I can’t believe I’m attracted to a tree.”

“I like to think that I’m a very handsome tree, though,” Castiel muttered between Dean’s legs, and it was only the fact that Castiel’s breath ghosted his cock when he spoke that the human even realized he was down there.  Dean’s breath hitched, his pupils dilating twice their size at the sight of Castiel’s between his legs.  His cock twitched against his stomach, pre ejaculate running down his shaft.

“Shit, yeah.  You’re handsome as hell,” he gasped.  Castiel hummed contemplatively, eyeing Dean curiously as he reached forward to wrap his fingers around Dean’s swollen cock.  The man’s breath hitched, but he said nothing, letting Castiel do his work.  Then he leaned forward, pressing his lips to the head, and let his tongue flick out to taste.  Dean groaned.

“It’s bittersweet.  And salty,” Castiel noted, licking at Dean’s weeping cock again as if he were some sort of candy.  “Interesting.”

“Cas,” Dean cried, his voice barely more than a whimper.  Castiel’s fingers tightened around his shaft, and he began to stroke up and down, looking up at Dean’s face curiously. 

“You’re so beautiful, Dean.  I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you,” he said it so matter-of-factly, and Dean cried out, writhing under Castiel hand.  The nymph’s lips sealed around his cock head again, sucking this time.  More pre ejaculate leaked from his cock, slicking Cas’s lips and dripping all over his chin, making it shiny.  He smiled up at Dean and he groaned, feeling his stomach muscles tighten.

It was over when Castiel dipped his head down and took one of Dean’s balls into his mouth.  He nuzzled between his thighs, hand still working at Dean’s cock, and experimentally flicked his tongue out to taste at his sac.  Dean had cried out, his balls drawing tight as his back arched off the bed.  He’d painted his own belly white with cum as Cas continued to suck at his balls, red and swollen full with semen, until he was done cumming and his cock hung limply in Castiel’s hands. 

The nymph continued to suck and stroke him, until Dean had finally had enough and pushed him away, whining about being oversensitive.  When Cas looked up at him he had a dazzling smile on his face, and as the nymph crawled on top of him, Dean went to wrap his arms around the man.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you?” Dean mumbled, pressing a sloppy kiss to Castiel’s chin.  The nymph shrugged, pillowing his head on Dean’s chest.  He carded his fingers through the nymph’s messy hair, fingers tracing the outline of his pointy ears.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Dean frowned slightly.  “Naw man, that’s unfair.  You made me cum, now I’ve got to make you,” he said, reaching his hand down towards Castiel’s waist.  He found his cock beneath a layer of thin fabric, much like the one he’d given Dean to wear, already soft and covered in sticky fluid.  His eyes widened.  “You came already?”

“Bringing your pleasure brought me pleasure,” Castiel said simply.  Dean laughed.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” he released Cas’s cock, bringing his hand up and tasting the nymph’s cum.  It was sweet, like berries and tree sap.  He smacked his lips together, grinning up at Cas.  “You came from having my cock in your mouth.”

Castiel smiled.  “Yes.  And next time, I think I want to cum with _my_ cock in _your_ mouth,” he smirked.  Dean laughed, arms tightening around Cas’s shoulders as he pulled him in for another kiss.  He smiled brightly.

“Never had sex before in your life and you’re already makin’ these filthy requests,” he smiled, shaking his head.  “Lucky for you, I’d be more than happy to fulfill them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have all waited nine long chapters for this, I know! Well, here it is. A little more smutty than fluffy, but we'll get plenty of that later on. I promise ;)
> 
>  **PLEASE comment!!** I know that Ao3 only lets you leave one Kudos, _but you can make up for that_ by sharing your thoughts below! I'm a starving artist here, guys  <3
> 
> Next chapter will be up by Wednesday. Pinky promise.


	11. Frosty The (Insecure) Snowman

“Winter has arrived,” Castiel said briskly as he entered the main room of the cottage, dumping some wood logs by the hearth and dusting flecks of snow from his messy hair.  His cheeks and nose appeared to be flushed dark red, and Dean was quick to step forward and wrap a blanket around the nymph’s shoulders, gasping when he felt how cold to the touch Cas’s skin was.

“Oh, baby, you’re freezing,” he whispered, cupping one side of Castiel’s face in his palm and rubbing his thumb over the flushed skin there.  “It’s only the middle of November!  Why the hell is it snowing?”

The nymph shrugged.  “We are at a rather high altitude.  I’ve gotten used to it over the years,” he paused, eyeing Dean up and down considerably before he added, “You should probably stay indoors.  It’s not safe for you to go outside in this weather; I wouldn’t want you getting sick.”

Dean snorted, “So what, you keepin’ me prisoner now?” He teased lightly, a smile lighting up his face as he poked Cas in the chest.  “I shoulda known this was your plan all along.  Keep me safe and warm and happy, then pull a Rapunzel on me.  I see how it is, Cas.”

 

Castiel frowned.  “I am not sure what lettuce has to do with any of this,” he paused, eyebrows furrowing when Dean broke into a fit of giggles.  He continued, “But I assure you that your safety is my only concern, and I am not holding you here prisoner.  You may leave whenever you like.”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head and turning away from him. He shuffled away from the nymph, going to sit near the table.  “Eh, I’ll pass. I kinda like it here,” he smirked over at Castiel.  “The guy who lets me stay here is kind of hot.”

“Actually, I’m kind of cold right now,” Castiel deadpanned, but his eyes were alight with mirth, and Dean was happy to see that Castiel understood he was joking now.  He shifted in his seat as Castiel stepped forward, grinning and leaning into his embrace when he stepped close and enclosed his arms around Dean.  “I think I may need you to warm me up,” he breathed.  Dean hummed, tilting his head back and pressing a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Mm, later.  I’m kinda busy r’now,” he mumbled against Castiel’s lips, leaving two more kisses against his skin before he turned his attention back to the kitchen table.  He picked up a knife and some wild potatoes, skinning the starchy vegetables with skilled, deft fingers.  As Castiel looked upon him he noticed a small pile of potatoes sitting off to the side, already skinned, and he realized that this must have been what Dean was doing before he came in.  He nosed at Dean’s neck, humming softly against his soft skin.

“What are you making?”

Dean grinned in an almost mischievous expression, flashing his teeth at Castiel.  “I’m gonna make you somethin’ you ain’t ever had before,” he paused for dramatic effect, licking his lips and leaning close before he whispered, “ _French fries_.”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his lips quirked into a small smile.  “Ooh, I do enjoy French cuisine.  When Rene-Robert Cavalier came to settle this land many years ago, I remember Gabriel pilfering some brandy cake from some of the men, while they were sleeping.  It was a bit stale but nonetheless– hey.  Why are you laughing?”

“Cas,” Dean gasped, dropping his knife and turning to press his face into the nymph’s shoulder.  He wheezed as he laughed, shaking his head and grinning against Cas’s skin.  “it’s not really French.  It’s just… it’s fried potatoes, man.  Nothin’ fancy or French about it.”

“Oh,” the nymph frowned, a small pout forming on his handsome face.  “That is misleading.”

“Yeah, Dean chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked up at Cas.  After a moment’s deliberation he surged forward, kissing the pout right off of his face and whispering to him, “But how about I make you a deal?  I’ll make you your French brandy cake thingy if you try my French fries.”

“I was going to try them anyway,” Castiel answered, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips.  “But I accept your proposition.”  Then he pulled away, busying himself with his knitting again.  They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound in the cottage that of Dean’s knife scraping against the tabletop every now and then, and Cas’s needles clinking against each other. The fire kept them warm, crackling in the corner of the room, and every now and then they could hear the squeak and scuffle of some mice behind the stone wall.  Their numbers had tripled since the time that they moved in in the late summer; Castiel didn’t seem to mind their presence.  Dean was pretty sure he had actually given each of them their own names.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you really happy here?  With me?” Castiel’s voice sounded smaller than usual, more vulnerable.  Dean stopped slicing his potatoes but didn’t make any move to turn around, lest he see the no-doubt nervous look on Cas’s face.  He felt his own skin flush with trepidation, and he shrugged noncommittally.

“Of course, Cas.  I, y’know, care about you.  And you make me happy.  I like waking up next to you every morning,” he traced his bottom lip with his tongue, a nervous habit.  “I wouldn’t lead you on, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, I didn’t… That’s not what I meant,” Castiel let out a soft sigh, not quite agitated, but certainly tired.  Something was obviously troubling him.  Dean finally willed himself to turn around, frowning over at Cas.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asked, awkwardly making his way back onto his feet and walking over to the cot, where Cas had set up to do his knitting.  He sat down beside him, careful not to sit on his needles, and looked up at Castiel with concern.  “You know I wouldn’t be involved in this little relationship thing with you if I didn’t want to be.”

“I know that, Dean.  I just…,” he huffed, looking down at his own lap and wringing his hands together.  “It has been three weeks since we first made love; a little more than two months since you fell from the sky and I took you in.  Your injury is all but healed by now, and if it weren’t for the snow…,” he trailed off, a troubled look crossing his face.  His Adam’s apple bobbed visibly in his throat, and it only took a few seconds for Dean to catch on to what he was saying.  He thought that Dean wanted to leave.  That if it weren’t for the cold weather, he might be gone already. 

“Hey, hey,” Dean rushed out, clutching at the nymph’s arms, tangling his fingers into the thick brown vines and tugging.  Castiel jerked forward, wincing slightly, but Dean didn’t let up his grip on the nymph. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, okay?  Even if it weren’t snowin’ outside, I wouldn’t be goin’ anywhere.  I love you, okay? I think you need to know.  I wouldn’t use you like that.”

“Dean, I–” he stopped, throat tight suddenly, and a single tear tracked down the side of his face.  Dean brushed it away with his lips, sliding his arms around Cas’s neck and rocking close to him.  Castiel’s skin was still cool to the touch, but it warmed against Dean’s body.  He buried his face in Dean’s neck, drawing in a jagged breath and making small noises that sounded almost like whimpers.  “I’ve never felt this way about anybody before.  I feel overwhelmed,” he admitted.  “I just… I’m scared of losing you.  I’m scared that I’ll wake up one day and discover that this has all been a dream.  Or worse: that it hasn’t been a dream, but that you are gone and I will never see you again.  And I know it’s selfish of me, because of course you need to go home to your family one day.  I just, I’m not…,” he huffed, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head.  “I’m not used to this.”

“Cas,” Dean sighed, thinking over his words carefully before he spoke, “I don’t… I’m not going to leave you like that.  Even if, one day, someone comes along to rescue me and bring me back home– which, let’s face it, is a long shot– I wouldn’t just up and leave.  Don’t you think I feel the same way?  Like I’m gonna wake up in some hospital bed in a coma someplace, having dreamed you up?  I would be heartbroken,” he sighed, reaching out and taking Castiel’s hand in his own.  The nymph intertwined their fingers, giving Dean’s hand a squeeze.  “You just got to not think about it.  Live in the moment; not everything you do can be planned down to the T.  Did you plan on finding me in the woods, that day?”

“No,” Cas answered, sniffling and wiping his eyes.  Dean offered him a small smile.

“Exactly.  Right now, all we have to care about is you, me and firewood.  And who knows?  You said humans hadn’t been in this area for years before me; maybe I’ll never get rescued.  That would be your best case scenario, right?” He chuckled, nudging Cas’s elbow.  Cas sighed and shook his head.

“No, it wouldn’t.  I don’t want you to be separated from your family,” he answered, all serious.  The smile disappeared from Dean’s face as thoughts of Sam flooded his mind, and he felt Cas’s arms wrap around him.  “I just want you to be happy.”

“I’m happy here,” Dean answered after a few seconds, pressing a light kiss to Cas’s bare shoulder.  “I’m happy with you, now.  That’s all that matters.”

Cas let out a soft sigh, nodding.  “Yes.  I suppose you’re right,” he mumbled.  Dean smiled, kissing his cheek and then patting the nymph’s leg.  He stood up slowly.

“You know what I think?  You need somethin’ to eat,” he smiled, turning and walking back towards the kitchen table.  “That’s what happens when little kids get hungry.  They get all grumpy and emotional.  Start blubbering and cryin’ all over you.”

Castiel rolled his eyes.  “I am not a child,” he retorted, standing up and going to stand beside Dean as he started to chop up the skinned potatoes.  “And I was not _blubbering_.”

“Sweetheart,” Dean answered, a smirk playing on his lips.  “You got snot all over my shoulder.  Look,” he said, turning his head to the side and letting Cas see the shiny, wet skin there.  The nymph winced, reaching out and brushing the snot away with his hand, then heading over to the sink to wash himself.  Dean grinned, chuckling to himself.  “I mean, I didn’t mind it.  Not exactly the kind of bodily fluids I want you leavin’ on me, though.”

“Oh, you’re filthy,” Castiel chastised him, a full grin now spread across his face.  Dean laughed, chopping up the last of the potatoes and piling them up on the counter.  Then he picked up one of Castiel’s iron frying pans, filling it generously with the nymph’s homemade olive oil.  He carefully carried it over to the fire, placing it on the shelf over the flame and letting it heat.  Once the oil was sizzling, he brought the potatoes over, dumping them into the oil and stepping away as they began to sizzle and spit.

“You’re gonna love there,” Dean said as he turned back to Cas, green eyes glowing.  “I promise.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

Time passed quickly, and with the time came more snow.  More and more and more, to the point where some days the door to the cottage could not be pushed open at all, even with Dean and Castiel’s combined strength.  Days blended into each other underground, long nights spent between Dean and Cas talking and making love; long mornings spent sleeping in and snacking on dried berries while still in bed.

It was the most comfortable Dean had ever been in his life.  It was almost like he had nothing to worry about, despite the long list of chores that Cas gave him to do every day.  Menial tasks like ‘chop the firewood’, ‘shell these chestnuts’, or even (and this was Dean’s favorite) ‘feed the mice’ became an important part of his routine.  He enjoyed spending his time with Castiel, listening to him spin elaborate tales of different times that he had been alive to see.  And even if the stories weren’t all true– and some of them really did sound fabricated, because there was no way that any Native American ever lived in a 45-foot-tall _bee hive_ – he still loved to listen to Cas speak.  He loved talking to him.  He loved him.

He stopped keeping track of the days and months, at least in the way that he used to.  He and Castiel developed a new routine, about two weeks into the month of December.  Dean would bundle up (usually at Castiel’s insistence) in his fire boots and Castiel’s deerskin jacket, and huddled close together they would make their way outside and into the snowy outdoors to look up at the night sky.  They would account for the moon phases then, and sometimes on warmer nights, Cas would keep him outside and explain to him what all of the different constellations were.

In turn, Dean would explain to him how some star formations just looked like giant dicks floating in the sky.  Castiel would never admit that Dean was actually kind of right.

“The Winter Solstice is approaching,” Castiel announced one night as the two of them trudged back inside, the image of the half-moon still fresh in Dean’s mind as he kicked his icy boots off and went to warm by the fire.  He looked up at Cas curiously, his attention peaked.

“Yeah?  We gonna get another surprise visit from Gabriel again?”

Castiel chuckled, shaking his head.  “I doubt it.  Gabriel does not like the cold very much, so he stays in his home for most of the winter.  There was one year, when we were young, that he dressed himself up in nothing but an ornate lace ribbon and presented himself as a gift at his girlfriend’s doorstep.  But he got frostbite in some very displeasing places, and she rejected him.  So I don’t think we have much to fear.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Dean gasped, an amused grin lighting up his face.  He shifted, his muscles now relaxing in the warmth of the fire, and gestured for Cas to come sit with him.  The nymph sat beside him, wrapping his arms around the human and pulling him close.  Warmth immediately spread throughout Dean’s body, and he sighed contentedly.  “So what is the Winter Solstice anyhow?  S’it like Christmas except Rip Van Winkle style?”

“I do not understand that reference… But, for all intents and purposes, yes.  The Winter Solstice can be celebrated in many of the same ways that Christmas is… In fact, most Christmas traditions originate from the Winter Solstice,” he paused, arms tightening around Dean’s waist.  “Are you Christian?”

Dean shrugged.  “I suppose.  But not really.  Mom used to always tell me that angels were watchin’ over me… But a hell of a lot good that did me after she died and Dad left me to fend for myself and for Sammy.”

Castiel hummed thoughtfully, nosing at Dean’s neck and nibbling at his skin.  Dean flinched but didn’t pull away, letting his eyes flutter closed as he relaxed into Castiel’s hold.  “Well the way that I usually celebrate my Winter Solstice, I say a prayer to the sun Gods at dusk the night before the solstice, and after staying up all night, I set some communion outside for the birds to pick at.  Usually I leave sunflower seeds for them, or dried berries.  And then I sleep through the day.  And when I wake at night I pray before the moon, and stay awake until the sun rises in the morning.”

“No presents?” Dean frowned.  Castiel frowned.

“I’ve never really had anyone to share gifts with before, so no.”

“Well maybe we should do that this year,” he said, tracing circles on Castiel’s arm with his fingers.  The nymph smiled.

“You are going to celebrate with me?”

“Of course,” he said, turning and pressing a soft kiss to Castiel’s cheek.  “I might not participate in all the praying and such, but I’d be more than happy to pull an all-nighter with you.” His eyes lit up with childlike glee.  “Ooh, it’ll be like we’re a couple teenage girls at a slumber party!”

Castiel’s eyebrow quirked up, and a smile lifted the corners of his lips.  His eyes darkened.  “Do girls at these ‘slumber parties’ typically ravish each other’s bodies?” He asked suggestively, nosing at Dean’s neck and sucking the skin between his teeth.  Dean groaned, tipping his forehead back and letting Cas’s hands roam over his chest and belly.  His eyes fluttered closed.

“One can only hope,” he groaned, arching his back and squirming in the nymph’s hold, letting his pants slide down his legs and fall into a pile beside the hearth.  “Now please, get your clothes off so I can ravish _your_ body.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this kind of sucks. Only 2895 words. I'm never good with the chapters after sex scenes... I probably shoudln't have ended Chapter 9 that way. Oh well, I might edit it later. **Please let me know if you're liking the story so far!** :) You guys are awesome.
> 
> Also, I HATE the title of this chapter. Any suggestions?


	12. Bring us some Figgy Pudding

“We wish you a Merry Solstice, we wish you a Merry Solstice, _we wish you a Merry Solstice!”_ Dean’s voice, high pitched and slightly out of tune, carried loudly from the kitchen throughout the entire cottage.  From where he was seated on the cot, whittling some new knitting needles out of fish bones, Castiel winced and glared halfheartedly in his direction.

“Dean…”

“And a Happy New Year!” The human’s voice became only louder, and Castiel could have sworn that he saw him smirking when he turned to throw some vegetables into the cauldron over the fire.  “Now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding, now bring us some figgy pudding!  Oh bring some right here!”

“Who are you even singing at?” Castiel interrupted, setting both his knife and the bone down and crossing his arms over his chest.  Dean turned to grin at him, answering easily.

“The mice. Duh.  It keeps ‘em warm.”

Castiel’s eyebrows quirked.  “If by keeping them warm, you mean by making them go deaf, then year, sure.”

“Sarcastic one, aren’t ya?” Dean chided, wiping his hands off on his legs and smearing berry juice all over the front of his pants.  Then he sauntered over to Castiel’s, plopping down on the bed beside him and slinging his arms around the nymph’s neck.  “As if you don’t love my singing.”

“Mmm…,” Cas hummed thoughtfully, letting his eyes flutter closed as Dean pressed soft kisses to his cheeks and lips.  “I think I could do without it,” he mumbled, laughing when Dean pushed him back against the cot and began to pepper his neck with quick, ticklish kisses.  He ran his hands up and down Dean’s back, letting them rest on his hips, fingers digging in and leaving bruises.  The human groaned, grinding down against Cas’s leg and nipping at his earlobe.

“You think it’s warm enough for us to…?”

Castiel raised his eyebrows.  “It’s the middle of the afternoon, Dean.  Plus, you’re making soup.”

“Soup’s fine.  I want you now,” He purred, fingers trailing down from Cas’s neck and across his bare chest.  His fingers caught against the thick vines embedded in his skin, now dark and hardened from the cold, but nonetheless beautiful.  He tugged at one that was positioned right over Cas’s pelvis, smirking when the nymph moaned and squirmed beneath him.  His pupils dilated with list, but still he shook his head at Dean.

“I’m tired,” he whined.  “You wore me out last night,” he murmured, carding his fingers through Dean’s hair.  Dean rolled his eyes at the weak attempt to distract him, leaning down and sucking at Cas’s neck.

“Come on, baby.  I’ll make it worth your while.  You want me to eat you out?”

“Dean…”

“I won’t go until I get some,” he began to sing, tone mocking now, and Cas felt Dean smirking against his neck when he groaned.  “I won’t go until I get some, I won’t go until I get some, so _bring some right here_!”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re talking about figgy pudding anymore,” Cas murmured dryly, and Dean smiled smugly when he felt Cas’s hands traveling under the hem of his pants to grasp at his hardened cock.  He let out a pleasured sigh, humping forward into the nymph’s fist, his eyes screwed shut.  Cas leaned forward to press soft kisses to his neck and chin, moving his hand slowly against Dean’s skin.

“Ah, yes, baby.  _Perfect.”_

“You’re so needy.  Needy little human,” Cas murmured, his tone affectionate, and he left a trail of sweet, wet kisses all along Dean’s neck and too his shoulder.  Then he pushed his deer skin jacket away, exposing planes of pale, freckled skin and dark, perky nipples.  He began to kiss along his chest as well, his hand moving at a steady pace along Dean’s cock.  The human moaned into his neck, humping his hand, his cock pulsing between his legs.

“I’m gonna… Oh baby, gonna cum if you keep doin’ that…,” he gasped.  Castiel gave his cock a few final pumps, then withdrew his hands from Dean’s pants and readjusted the two of them so that they could be in a more comfortable position.  It was a little awkward at first, but eventually they found an arrangement that worked: both of them lying on their sides with Dean behind Cas, his pants now discarded on the floor and his bare cock pressing insistently against the cleft of Cas’s ass.

He reached around, fumbling to wrap his fingers around the nymph’s cock, which was half hard and smooth to the touch.  He withdrew his hand, if only for a moment, to spit into the palm of it and then returned his attention to Cas’s cock, tugging at the hard flesh until it was stiff and leaking pre ejaculate.  Cas moaned softly into his pillow, and Dean kisses the back of his neck, grinding against his ass and nibbling at his earlobe.

“Dean,” Castiel demanded, voice thick with arousal, and Dean pressed a kiss to his shoulder to quiet him, wordlessly understanding what he wanted.  He slid away from Castiel and climbed up off of the bed, finding a small, sealed mason jar filled with translucent green gel.  The Aloe Vera had, much to Dean’s surprised, turned out to be an amazing alternative to synthetic lube.  At first he’d been hesitant to use it, but once he had listened to Castiel and tried it out, he was pretty much hooked.  On top of doing its job, the aloe had an _amazing_ cooling affect, and Dean was pretty sure his dick had never felt so comfortable in anyone’s ass before.

“Hurry up,” Cas mumbled, ass presented high in the air when Dean returned to the cot.  The human chuckled, climbing up behind him and kneeling between Cas’s spread legs.  He set the jar down beside him, letting the blankets pillow it and keep it from falling, and reached out to slowly run his hands back and forth over the curve of Cas’s beautiful ass.  The vines on his body even extended this far down, curving gracefully around his upper thighs and buttocks; thick and sensitive vines that Dean loved to nibble at.

Castiel whined desperately as Dean dragged his tongue over his flushed skin, setting his teeth in and letting his canines press against the sensitive skin of his buttocks.  A dark, red, half-crescent shaped bruise was left behind on Cas’s left ass cheek, and Dean smiled smugly as he looked down at it, peppering the skin around it with small kisses as he trailed closer and closer to the crack of Cas’s ass.  He spread his cheeks carefully, smirking when the tight ring of muscle hidden there flexed and tightened upon being exposed to the cool air.

“So pretty,” he whispered, breath hot against Cas’s ass, and he leaned forward to drag his tongue over the tight muscles.  Cas cried out, his entire body jerking forward, but Dean held his hips fast and dove forward once again to lick at him.  He let his tongue flatten out over Cas’s hole, dragging it up and down, tasting the sweet sweat on the skin and breathing in his fresh smell.  Somehow, Cas always managed to smell like pine sap and cedar wood.

Castiel’s moans were the only sound to be heard in the entire cottage, but they were so loud that one could probably hear them from a mile away.  His entire body shook as Dean vigorously began to eat him out, curling his tongue and pressing it inside of Cas’s hole.  The nymph wailed, pre ejaculate dripping from his cock, and Dean chuckled as he pulled away, chin spit slick and lips swollen from sex.

“And you said you didn’t want to have sex,” he chided, reaching around and giving Cas’s cock a few light tugs.  Castiel huffed, rolling his eyes, and pushed his hips back so that Dean could get a full face of his ass.

“I _didn’t_.  But now that you’ve got me so invested in the task, you might as well finish the job and _fuck me_ ,” he growled.  Dean laughed, shuffling up onto his knees again and reaching for the small tub of aloe vera.

“Bossy,” he chided, pinching the sensitive skin on Cas’s inner thigh and chuckling when he let out an angry whine.  “But I know what’ll quiet you down.  A nice ass full of my big fat cock should do it,” he teased.  Cas groaned, nodding, his face buried once more into his pillow.

“Yes, Dean.  Please give me your big fat cock,” he groaned.  The words sounded so unnatural pouring from his mouth that Dean just had to laugh, and Cas was about to turn around and start yelling at him when Dean’s aloe slick index finger pressed urgently against his hole.  It slid right in with no resistance, thanks to Dean’s earlier ministrations with his tongue, and rather than complaining Cas simply moaned loudly into his pillow.

He moved his fingers slowly, giving Castiel’s body time to accommodate the stretch and get used to the feeling of being penetrated.  The two of them had only done this a few times earlier– several of those times including Dean being on the receiving end– and as desperate as Cas could get Dean still didn’t want to hurt him.  He slipped a second finger in after a few minutes, smiling upon Castiel’s moan and leaning down to kiss his shoulder blade.

“You make the most beautiful noises,” he murmured, nosing at Cas’s neck and dragging his tongue along his salty skin.  Cas groaned in agreement, pushing his hips back to take Dean’s fingers deeper.  He began to scissor his digits, stretching the nymph’s hole.  He poured more aloe down the crack of his ass, slicking his way, and Cas let out a choked off whine at the cool sensation.  Dean smiled and kissed him again, his hard cock grinding against the back of Cas’s thigh when he leaned forward.

“Dean,” he gasped, voice desperate and choked off, and he keened when Dean slipped a third finger in.  His ass fluttered around the intrusion, stretched wide, and he rocked his body back and forth, effectively humping the mattress beneath him and fucking himself back onto Dean’s fingers.  The human chuckled, mouthing at Cas’s back, leaving hickeys all along the soft skin of his back.  His nipped at Cas’s vines, grinning when he cried out, and carefully began to slick his own cock up with aloe.

He lined himself up a few minutes later, his fingers slipping wet and sticking from Cas’s well prepped ass, and in one slow, fluid motion he had pushed in and was bottoming out inside of the nymph’s ass.  Cas cried out, back arching as a desperate cry escaped his mouth.  Dean leaned forward, nipping at his neck and petting his fingers through Cas’s messy dark hair.

“Ugh, so hot.  So tight, Cas.  Love you,” he grunted, jerking his hips forward.  Cas whined, low and desperate, his fingers tangling into the sheets on top of the cot as Dean began to thrust in and out.  It was small movements at first, nothing more than really grinding his cock into Cas’s ass, but eventually the two of them settled into a rhythm and Dean was just fucking hard and fast into Cas’s tight ass.

“Dean!” he screamed, face screwed up in pleasure, cock twitching beneath him as he soaked the sheets with his precum.  Dean reached down beneath him, scrambling to grasp Cas’s cock between his fingers, and the nymph whined loudly, arching into Dean’s chest and tilting his head to the side, practically baring his neck to Dean.  Dean took it as an open invitation, nipping and sucking dark hickeys all alogn the line of Cas’s neck. 

“Oh, baby.  So close, so…,” he groaned, face pressed against Cas’s sweaty skin, little grunts and groans escaping as he continued to fuck forward hard and fast.  His cock pulsed inside of Cas, and in a moment he was cumming, hot and sticky inside of the nymph.  Cas whined, squirming, his entire body jerking desperately as he suck out more friction against Dean’s hand.

“Need you, this.  Dean, I can’t… I _can’t_.  I need…”

“Ugh, s’okay,” Dean grunted, hips still moving despite the fact that his cock was now softening inside of Cas’s ass.  “I got you.  I’ve got you, sweetheart.”  He steadied himself with his right arm, then began to move his left hand faster around Cas’s cock, giving his shaft a hard squeeze and flicking his wrist back and forth until Cas was cumming in big, messy shots all over the cot.

They collapsed together in a sweaty, sticky mess, hearts pounding loudly in each of their chests as they came down from their orgasmic highs together.  Dean smiled goofily against Cas’s skin, his fingers tracing circles over the nymph’s hipbones as Cas did the same to his stomach and chest.

“I don’t know what comes over me around you,” he murmured, all smiles and short breaths.  “It’s like I’ve got some sort of sex drug in me, and I just got to have you.”

Cas shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.  “Well, we are mates,” he answered plainly.  Dean’s eyes widened, but Castiel didn’t seem to take notice, continuing on casually.  “And nymph’s are very sexual creatures.  It’s probably just a natural pheromone-induced reaction that you’re having to my presence.”

Dean was silent for a few moments, processing Cas’s words over in his mind.  He decided to tuck the little tidbit about them being mates away for safe keeping, and instead smirked over at Cas, flicking him in the chest.

“A reaction to your presence, huh?  You’re startin’ to sound a little cocky there, buddy,” he teased.  Castiel shrugged, a slow smile spreading over his face, and he ducked forward to press a slow, chaste kiss to Dean’s lips.

“It’s now arrogance if I’m only speaking the truth,” he answered, his eyes roaming over Dean’s face adoringly before venturing over his shoulder.  His smile disappeared, replaced by a frown, and he pointed over Dean’s shoulder.  “Your soup appears to be boiling over.”

“Shit,” Dean cursed, rolling over and nearly falling off the cot.  He jerked upright, padding quickly over to the kitchen area, only to spin around again when he heard Cas calling.

“Pants!” He said, waving Dean’s tattered firefighter pants in his hand.  Dean jogged back, jerking them on commando and smiling gratefully down at Cas. The last thing that either of them wanted was for Dean to spill boiling water all over his… goods.  The burns on his legs from the fire had never even fully healed, leaving the skin on his calf shriveled and scarred.

After hoisting the cauldron off of the fire and leaving it on the stone floor to cool for several minutes, Dean deemed that at least most of the soup had been salvaged, and he returned to laying down with Cas.  The nymph had resumed his earlier task of whittling fish bones, but Dean didn’t let that stop him from snuggling into Cas’s side.  The nymph didn’t seem to mind.

 _Of course he doesn’t mind.  Because apparently we’re mates_.

Dean wasn’t even entirely sure what that meant.  In human culture, there were no such thing as mates.  Only animals really had mates, and Dean wasn’t entirely sure how that stuff worked.  He was pretty sure that dogs had some sort of mating system going on, and he knew that turtle doves mated for life.  But… were mates the same way for nymphs?  Surely Cas would have told him if they had made some sort of lifelong bond together, or something.  Surely he didn’t expect Dean to live in the woods with him forever.

But that was the thing: Dean was pretty sure that he could live in the woods with Cas forever.  He could easily say goodbye to his life in Lawrence and opt to just stay out here, foraging for berries and watching the moon phases with Cas for the rest of his days.  He could see himself growing old with Cas; taking care of him and being taken care of by him; spending time with him every day.  He would never get sick of Castiel.  He loved him.

But then, of course… He had a life in Lawrence.  He had a job that paid a pretty decent salary, and a family that was probably worried sick about him.  His little brother hadn’t even left for college yet, and Bobby was starting to get older; would probably retire soon and need someone to look after him.  ( _As if he would ever let himself be fussed over_ , Dean thought with a quiet chuckle.) They both needed Dean to care for them, and if he stayed here forever, they wouldn’t have him.  Nobody would have him.  Not his brothers, his cousins, his friends… He even had a boyfriend back home, for Christ’s sake.

 _Well, not a real boyfriend...  More of just a casual sex friend_.  _Nothing like what I have with Castiel._

But as much as he knew that he needed to go back home, he couldn’t bring himself to imagine a life without Cas in it.  He’d grown so fond of the nymph over these past few months; fond of his stories and his smile and his mannerisms and the way he _cared_.  The way he loved Dean, no matter how gross he looked or smelled or felt, and would always take care of him.

He turned to peer up at Castiel, and found that his attention was fully invested in crafting his new needles.  Winter Solstice was only a few days away now, and Dean was pretty sure that Cas was planning on knitting him something fancy.  He’d seen him smuggling some sort of soft-looking animal fur into the hut the other day, but when he’d looked for it later when Cas was napping, he hadn’t been able to find anything.  Damn bastard had some good hiding places.

He snuggled closer, letting his nose rest in the crook of Cas’s neck and enjoying the fresh, pine tree scent of his skin.  It soothed him, washing away all of the troubling thoughts that had been running through his mind and leaving nothing there but a fuzzy warmth in its place.  He felt relaxed.  So... perhaps Cas was right.  Perhaps they did have some sort of weird, profound mating bond that connected them to each other.  Dean was pretty sure that it could only be a good thing in the end.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, in that space where you couldn’t be sure what was real and what wasn’t, he felt a soft kiss being pressed to the top of his head and a murmured voice whispering, “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

And he was happy.

»»————-¤————-««

“Happy Solstice!” Dean screamed, waking Castiel on the first morning of winter.  The nymph squinted angrily at him, shoving him away and rolling back over.  Dean smiled fondly, draping himself over Cas’s bare back and pressing soft, lingering kisses to his skin.  “Come on, baby.  I made some tea.”

That got Cas’s attention.  “Tea?”

“Mhm.  Nutmeg with peppermint leaves, just ‘cuz I wanted to be festive.  And guess what?  It’s snowing outside,” he announced gleefully, rolling off of Cas so that the nymph could stand.  He rubbed at his eyelids, yawning loudly and then kicking the covers away.  He was entirely naked, and Dean felt his body flush with arousal at the sight of him, but he pushed it down in favor of climbing out of bed to go retrieve the tea.  Castiel watched him as he dressed, still looking tired.  Dean figured he had been up all night the day before, doing some last minute knitting for Dean’s gift (seeing as he had banned Dean from coming more than ten feet near him all day because he was ‘working on a surprise’, it was the only reasonable thing that Dean could surmise).

“What time is it?”

“Almost noon.  You slept for only ten hours, baby,” he answered, carrying two wooden mugs back to their cot and sitting down beside Cas.  He took the cup gratefully, sipping slowly and savoring the flavor.  He moaned, closing his eyes and leaning into Dean’s side.

“Delicious.  How on earth did I get so lucky as to have you?” He wondered, a small smiling gracing his lips as he pressed a peppermint flavored kiss to Dean’s lips.  Dean smiled, his cheeks going red.  He looked away, taking a few moments to regain his composure before he turned back, excited.

“Hey, so can we open our presents?” He asked excitedly.  Castiel chuckled.

“You can’t wait until dusk?  That’s when the season really changes from fall to winter,” he said, but his conviction wavered when he saw the sad pout on Dean’s face.  He let out a soft sigh, nodded, and then hoisted himself up from the bed.  He made his way over to the corner of the room, moving some things around to uncover a neatly hidden piece of clothing.

The cloth was tightly knit, obviously done by someone with a professional level of skill, and when Dean took it in hand he was blown away by how soft it was.  It looked like a vest, but with pockets all over it that he could button up, and what looked like some sort of utility belt sewn into the hem of it.  Dean’s eyes widened as he took in every detail of the beautiful work of art, and when he held it up to see the inside, he saw that it was lined with fur.  He ran his fingers through the dark brown tufts, turning to look at Cas in wonder.  And the nymph was actually blushing.

“It’s raccoon fur.  On the inside.  They have very soft pelts, and will keep you very warm.  It’s a… it’s a utility vest, really.  So you can keep your tools on you at all times; I know that you have a few knives and fishing materials and some survival gear that you like to carry around, but I thought that this might be easier to carry than that big backpack of yours,” he swallowed thickly, as if he were nervous, and continued, “And the fur lining it also detachable.  See,” he reached out and took the vest in his hands, pointing to several buttons that had been strategically placed within the stitching of the vest, so that Dean could remove and insert the raccoon fur at his whim.  “So that when it gets hot in the summer, you won’t overheat,” he paused, frowning slightly.  “If you… if you’re still here in the summer, I mean.”

Dean smiled, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Cas’s lips.  He clutched the vest to his chest, grinning.  “I love it, Cas.  It’s such a thoughtful gift,” he paused, looking towards the doorway, and sighed.  “Now I’m not so sure if my gift is going to live up.  I don’t even know if you’re like it.”

“Show me,” Cas encouraged, smiling gently at Dean.  The human set his vest down on the cot gently, hopping up and walking towards the doorway.  He began to root around behind the wall, where Cas knew there was a small open space (he should really have filled it in a while ago; it’s where all the mice kept getting in).  He searched back there for quite some time before he finally found what he was looking for, and he triumphantly tugged a small, flat square item from within the depths of the hole.  It was wrapped messily in brown burlap fabric, and Dean thrust it into Cas’s arms almost as soon as he reached the bed, sitting down and looking away from him, embarrassed.

“I’m sure that it’s going to be amazing, Dean.  I mean–” he peeled the burlap away, his breath catching in his throat when he found himself looking down at a full picture of himself as a young child, his mother and father all sitting together smiling.  His eyes immediately flew towards the wall, where the torn portrait of his family was still hanging crookedly from the wall.

Silence fell between himself and Dean, and though Castiel tried to think of something to say, he honestly didn’t know where to start.  He was stuck staring at the portrait in his lap, nearly identical to the one that Gabriel had destroyed several months ago, except that it wasn’t.  This one was new, and somehow… Better.  His family looked happier in this one, and somehow his mother and father looked more… lifelike.  More realistic. 

As if Dean had actually been there when this portrait was originally painted.

The tears came unbidden, and he actually didn’t realize he was crying until tear drops began to fall onto the portrait from his face.  He wiped them away as fast as they fell, not wanting to damage the picture.  Finally, Dean spoke up, his face flaming red and his head hung low.

“I know it was stupid.  I’m sorry, Cas.  I should have asked before I did it but I just wanted to–”

He was cut off by Cas tackling him in a hug, portrait set to the side so that the nymph could wrap his arms around Dean and squeeze the breath of him.  Dean grunted beneath him, holding Cas back as he began to cry into his chest, quiet sobs that shook the entire bed.

“Don’t be sorry,” he finally choked out, wiping his eyes and pressing a sweet kiss to Dean’s slips.  “This is the best present anybody has ever given me.  I can’t believe it, Dean.  I just…,” he sniffled, looking towards the portrait.  More tears welled up in his eyes, but he brushed them away.  “Thank you.”

A small smile spread over Dean’s face.  “I just saw how upset you were after Gabe… Y’know,” he shrugged, not wanting to rehash the horrible incident from a few months ago.  Cas seemed unfazed, so he continued.  “You spent weeks trying to fix that thing.  It was obvious you were upset.  I just wanted you to…” He trailed off, at a loss for words.  It was okay though, because Cas kissed him again, smiling brightly down at him.

“It’s wonderful, Dean.  You are a beautiful artist.”

He smiled, shrugging.  “I took an art class in college.”

Castiel blinked, looking away from Dean and back down at the portrait.  “I feel so…,” he paused, considering his words, then let out a heavy sigh.  “I am overwhelmed.  I have never received something like this before.  I don’t even have words to describe what I am feeling right now.”

“Then don’t,” Dean answered, stroking his knuckles over Castiel’s cheek, feeling the scruff growing there.  With the winter, Castiel had began to grow a small beard.  Dean thought it looked absolutely adorable on him.  “You don’t need words for things like these, sometimes.”

Castiel swallowed and nodded, his eyes twinkling with unshed tears.  He blinked them away, breath hitching when he felt Dean’s lips brush his cheek.  They sunk into the sheets, cuddled close to keep each other warm, and simply kissed each other again and again.  They kissed until their lips were numb; their bodies hot; their heads swimming.  And then they slept the day away, tangled together, with sated smiles on their faces.

When they woke in the evening to eat and go feed the birds outside, it was snowing again.  Dean wore his brand new vest, the thick fur lining keeping him warm in the cold, but still Castiel kept a close arm wrapped around his body, sharing their heat.  A thin layer of ice coated the ground, crunching beneath their shoes as they walked to a clearing in the wood so that they could lay out small bowls of seed.

He stood by as Castiel knelt and prayed in the moonlight, respectfully quiet for the nymph as he paid respects to his Gods.  And as Dean looked up at the full moon, shining brightly down on the two of them and casting shadows through the woods, he couldn’t help but send up a little prayer of his own.  It didn’t even matter that he had never really believed in God before now.  He just needed to send thanks to somebody– _anybody_ – for this moment. 

Because in all of his life, Dean had never felt as happy as he did right now.

After the Solstice, it became much colder.  The snow piled up outside of Castiel’s cottage, more falling every few days, leaving no time for any of it to melt before more piled up on top of it.  The wind picked up too, becoming bitter, and the first time that Dean got caught up in a wind storm while ice fishing, he couldn’t touch his own face for a week from the sting of his wind burn.  Castiel had mother-henned over him for days after that incident, and together they reached the consensus that Dean shouldn’t go out of the house until the weather cleared up.

But he didn’t mind staying inside all that much, anyway.  He and Castiel would sleep in late, keeping warm under the covers until around noon time every day.  They would wake for lunch– usually some sort of nuts or dried berries– and then, when the sun was at its highest point and the forest was at its warmest, Castiel would leave the house to go collect firewood and see if he could catch any small animals for them to eat.

As he had warned Dean when they first met, he wasn’t the best hunter on the block.  In fact, he was kind of the worst hunter Dean had ever met.  (And this was coming from a man whose own little brother refused to eat veal because “the conditions those animals are forced to live in are despicable, Dean!”)

But they managed anyway.  Whenever one of Cas’s traps failed, Dean would encourage him with kind words.  _You’re a hunter in training_ , he would say, _I’ll show you how to do it better once the spring comes_.  The nymph would reward his kind words with a sloppy kiss and a promise to do better next time, and he always seemed more reassured after Dean would say those things.  Though Dean was almost certain that that was just because Dean was promising to stay once the spring arrived.

But they managed, together.  Dean loved Castiel, and he wasn’t planning on going anywhere anytime soon.  He loved him, with all of his heart, whether he was a bad hunter or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been, by far, my longest chapter. (5108 words! Holy shit!). I'm sorry that it took so long. I finished my summer job and I had a ton of summer homework to catch up on- I had to write a 5 page paper and then a bunch of friends came and stayed over at my house for the long weekend. Needless to say, I started this chapter 3 weeks ago and never finished it.
> 
> Please let me know if it seems a bit awkward. I don't entirely like how this chapter- or the last one, for that matter- turned out. **_So please let me know what you think!_ So I can fix it all when I do my edits.**
> 
> And for all my American readers out there... Happy Labor Day! <3
> 
> (And YES, don't worry, [you actually CAN use aloe vera](http://www.sheknows.com/love-and-sex/articles/1004251/aloe-why-its-a-great-natural-lube) as lube for sex)


	13. Copy That; Over

The first thaw of spring had Dean rejoicing in his newfound freedom.  There was still snow on the ground in late March, but the weather was definitely warming under the spring sunshine.  Snow crocuses, purple and pink and white, sprouted from the ground in little bundles in patches of sunlight, where the bright rays could reach them.  Dean thought that the forest was actually the brightest he had ever seen it; the trees were still bare from the winter, leaving lots of room for the sun to warm the forest back to life.

He swore to Castiel that he would make him cherry pie.  When the nymph had revealed to him over the winter that he had never eaten one before, Dean had been appalled.  He vowed to make his famous Dean Winchester Cherry Pie™, once awarded second place at the Kansas State fair (entered under the alias of Mary Winchester, of course).  Castiel had readily agreed, through warned Dean that it may be a bit of a challenge to find wild cherries in this part of the woods.

“ _He’s a Cherry Pie_ ,” Castiel sang along out of tone, obviously unsure of himself as he continued, _“Cool drink of water such a… uh…”_

“Such a sweet surprise.  And baby, the lyrics are _she’s my Cherry Pie._ Not _he’s a Cherry Pie_ ,” Dean railed playfully, nudging Castiel’s shoulder as they walked along through the woods.  It was still a bit chilly out, but still warm enough for Dean and Cas to enjoy themselves together outside.  Dean was wearing his vest–much to Castiel’s elation–and the pockets had already been filled with handfuls of wild almonds that he and Castiel had stumbled upon along their walk.

“Yes, but you are _my_ Cherry Pie, and you are a man,” the nymph answered easily, his arm sliding around Dean’s waist to tug him closer.  He pressed a kiss to Dean’s rosy cheek, unsure if the skin was flushed due to a blush, or because of the cool weather.  Either way, he laughed as Dean batted him away, scampering off to the side of the path to examine another almond tree.  He shucked a few of the nuts, tossing them into his mouth and humming appreciation of the rich taste.  Castiel watched as he picked a few more, shucking them as well, then turned and began pelting them at Castiel’s head.

The nymph ducked frantically for cover, hands over his eyes as he shouted out in protest.  Dean cackled, obviously amused by his own antics, and continued to pelt Castiel with the small nuts.  They bounced off of Cas’s arms and forehead, unrelenting, and Castiel shouted.

“You’ll be sorry, Dean Winchester!”

The young man laughed, a gay noise, and continued to pluck almonds from the tree and fling them in Castiel’s direction.  He wasn’t even shucking them anymore; simply pelting Castiel with heavy, full almond shells.  The frosty forest floor was already covered in them.

“Why?  What’cha gonna do to me, Cas?”

The nymph smirked, snapping his fingers, and suddenly Dean’s supply of almonds had all vanished from the tree beside him.  Now a pile of almonds, some not even ripe enough for picking, were stacked in Castiel’s arms.  Dean’s eyes widened; this was the first time he had ever witnessed Castiel outright using magic (he had suspected, on some of the colder winter nights, that Castiel had kept him warm using magic.  But this was all conjecture, and Castiel never had confessed).

Castiel took advantage of Dean’s shock to advance, and then the fight began.  Dean found himself being pelted with almonds all over his body, seemingly from every angle, and he yelped, jumping into the air and turning to shield himself.  The onslaught continued, even as he began to run away, deeper into the forest and off the path that he and Cas had been following.  The nymph followed closely, still pelting Dean with nuts (though his aim became less accurate as they ran).

“You’ll never catch me!” Dean called, laughing, and he leaped over a rotted tree stump and took a sharp left turn.  Just a few months ago, he realized, he’d thought that he would never walk again.  But now he was running; running through the woods, playing silly games with the love of his life, and he had never been so happy.  He was like a bird let out of its cage for the first time; running, running free, running–

“ _Oof!_ ” Dean jerked as he tripped over a fallen tree branch, his arms flying out in front of him to brace his fall.  He heard Castiel scream his name somewhere behind him, and he grunted, slumping against the ground and trying to regain his bearings.  Castiel was by his side in a moment, crouching next to him, a comforting hand on his back.

“Dean,” he gasped, his face scrunched up in a worrisome frown.  Dean offered him a smile as he finally managed to roll himself over, waving away Castiel’s concern as he shuffled into a sitting position.

“I’m fine, man.  Don’t worry,” he insisted, grimacing when he shifted and felt a pain in his lower thigh.  “But I do think I fell on a rock, or something.  Jesus…,” he trailed off, reaching underneath the seat of his ass and frowning when his fingers closed around something bulky, buries under the leaves.  He scooted backwards, Castiel’s hands still reaching out to support him in case he was seriously injured, and pulled from the dirt and half-decayed leaves beneath him a mud-caked, frost-covered walkie-talkie.  Dean’s breath caught in his throat and he stared with wide eyes at the thing in front of him, unsure if he was even seeing something real in his hands.

“You know, Dean,” Castiel noted conversationally as he looked around, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  “I believe I know where we are.  This is the same spot where I–”

“Where you found me, that night,” Dean finished Castiel’s sentence for him, his eyes never leaving the walkie-talkie in his hands.  A roly-poly skittered across the front of it and crawled over the antennae; Dean flicked it away with his pinkie finger.  “Cas, this is my old walkie-talkie.  It’s got a fireproof label and everything.”  He finally managed to tear his eyes away from the device in his hands, looking up at Castiel in wonder.  “I can’t believe this.”

“What is it?” The nymph asked, frowning, and reached out to poke the plastic device with a single finger.  Dean licked his lips, shaking his head.

“This… It’s a communication device.  Like a radio,” he explained, frowning when he realized that Castiel still didn’t understand what he was saying.  “You talk into it, here,” Dean pointed to the microphone, scraping away from dirt as he did so.  “And then it transmits sound waves through this,” he gestured to the antennae.  A small smile spread across his face.  “And this thing is supposed to transmit up to like… 30 miles.  It’s fireproof, waterproof, can withstand two tons of weight… This shit is indestructible,” Dean laughed, a manic smile spreading across his face as the reality finally sunk in.  He’d found his walkie-talkie!  He was saved!  He could go home!

“It is a… communication device?” Castiel repeated, nodding along when Dean nodded back at him.  He reached out again, scratching his fingernail over the surface of it.  “So you can use this to call for help.  One of your kind will come to save you.”

“Yeah, I guess.  I don’t even know if the thing still works,” Dean reached out, fiddling with the dial on the side of the handheld, switching it on and searching for a frequency.  He found one that was filled with static, and he held down the side button and spoke into the microphone.

“Hello, hello?  Anyone out there?  Over.”

He released the button, setting the buzzing walkie-talkie down in his lap, and waited.  His eyes wandered, roaming over Castiel’s face, the nymph’s features set into a deep frown as he stared at the device in Dean’s lap.  He looked hateful.

“What if nobody responds?” Castiel asked after a few more seconds of silence.  Dean shrugged.

“I guess I’ll just stay here with you then,” he answered easily, reaching out to squeeze Castiel’s fingers.  A flash of hopefulness lit up Castiel’s features for a moment, but then he went right back to frowning, shaking his head.  He pulled his hand away from Dean’s.

“I don’t… I want you to be saved, Dean.  I don’t want you to live here forever, in these woods.  Not when you belong somewhere else.”

Dean frowned.  “And who says… Who says I belong somewhere else?  Who says I don’t just belong here, with you?”

“Are you telling me that you don’t miss your home, Dean?” Castiel asked, disbelieving.  Dean sighed, looking away from the nymph, and Castiel reached out to take his hands.  He lifted Dean’s knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin there, and nuzzled his cheek against Dean’s hand.  Dean sighed, closing his eyes, and let Castiel pull him a bit closer.  Their foreheads rested against one another’s now, and silently, they breathed each other in.

 _“Breaker, is somebody out there?  I’m receiving an unknown transition.  If you can hear me now, identify yourself.  Over,”_ the walkie-talkie rattled in Dean’s lap, vibrating as it transmitted the message, and Dean’s breath hitched, his heart hammering in his chest.  Both he and Castiel looked down at it in surprise, and Dean reached lout, hand hovering over it indecisively.

This was it.  If he responded now… He and Castiel would never see each other again.  He would be rescued by the National Forest Service– or _whoever_ was gonna come get him– and he would leave and never return.  He and Castiel would have to say goodbye, forever, and their relationship would become nothing more than a distant memory.  Perhaps, even, Dean might imagine that none of this had ever been real, and that Castiel was a figment of his imagination.

Perhaps he might even forget him.

Miraculously, it was Castiel’s fingers that closed over Dean’s and guided him to pick up the walkie-talkie.  He pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Dean’s lips, breathing against his cheek as he watched Dean lift the walkie-talkie up to his chin.  With shaking fingers, he held down the button on the side of the device, and announced into the microphone.

“Copy, I can hear you.  My name is Dean Winchester… I’m a smokejumper.  I lost my team out here, a few months ago.  I…,” he swallowed thickly, trailing off.  Castiel nodded, urging him on, and he continued, “I’ve been out here ever since.  I don’t know where I am.  I don’t…,” he huffed, ending on a heavy sigh, and closed his eyes.  “Over.”

He released the button again, waiting for the crackling over the speakers to dissipate again.  The voice came through a few moments later.

_“Dean Winchester, are you injured?  We are located at Check-In Base 10, just north of Rich Mountain.  Copy if you know that location.  Over.”_

“I do not copy.  I don’t know where I am or where anything around here is.  But this walkie only has a max range of like… 36 miles.  So you can’t be that far out,” he paused, licking his lips, then added, “Over.”

There was a pause that lasted a few minutes, and no noise passed in the clearing but that of Dean and Cas’s breathing.  Dean found himself nestling closer to Cas, breath warm against the nymph’s skin, and unbidden tears pricked his eyes when he felt his companion’s arms wrap around his body.  The hiss of the walkie-talkie interrupted their silence–a noise that seemed almost unwelcome in thus desolate clearing–and they both stared at it as the voice returned, announcing.

_“Stay put where you are.  We are sending out a search party now.  Are you injured?  Please copy.”_

Dean picked up the device, holding the button down and confirming that he was not injured, and promising to stay put where he was.  Then he set the walkie-talkie down, kicking it to the side, and let out a heavy sigh.  Castiel squeezed his fingers, drawing Dean’s attention back to him, and pulled him close.  Dean made a noise that very closely resembled a whimper, leaning heavily on the nymph, his eyes squeezed shut to prevent his tears from falling.

“I suppose that this is goodbye,” Castiel whispered.  Dean sniffed, loud, and shook his head angrily.

“I didn’t even get to make you that cherry pie.  We didn’t even find any cherries,” he complained.  Castiel hummed, stroking his fingers through Dean’s hair, a gentle, sad smile on his face.

“Darling, we weren’t going to find any cherries anyway.  They don’t come into season until May.”

Dean sniffed again, nodding, eyes set on the ground between them.  “Yeah.  You were just humorin’ me, going on this walk,” he murmured, lips wobbling.  “You always humor me.  I’m… I’m so sorry, Cas.  I’m so sorry I found this damn thing,” he kicked the walkie-talkie again, tears shining in his eyes, and Castiel frowned.

“Don’t apologize, Dean.  You know… everything happens for a reason.  You were meant to find that walkie-talkie today, much in the same way that you were meant to fall from the sky and into my life, that night many months ago.  We always knew that this day would come… Although I must say that I find it quite symbolic, that your departure should take place in the same exact spot as your arrival.”

Dean snorted, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his vest and nodding.  “Yeah… I guess it’s kind of cliché, huh?”

“We should go back to the cottage to collect your things.  Your bag, your knife– you need those things.”

“No,” Dean said quickly, shaking his head.  “No, you keep it.  I want you to,” he stopped, swallowing thickly, and looking away.  He was quiet for a few moments, thinking his words over, before he spoke again.  “You need that knife more than I do.  And whenever you see it, you know… Maybe you’ll think of me.  Think of that time you puked all over me when I gutted a fish with it.”

Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed.  “I did not vomit _on_ you.  And Dean– do you think that I would forget you?  Do you think that I could ever forget you?”

Dean swallowed, tears stinging his eyes.  He was silent, letting Castiel stroke his hands over his face and cheeks, brushing his tears away.  He drew in a shaky breath, voice thick as he confessed.

“I’m scared that… That I might forget you,” he whimpered, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.  “I don’t want to forget you, Cas.  I _love_ you.”

Castiel nodded, brushing his cheeks again, and then leaned close to press their foreheads together.  He wrapped Dean in a hug, rubbing his back, and breathed out against his earlobe.

“Thank you for teaching me how to love, Dean,” he whispered, and the man began to shake, his entire body burning up with emotion.  Castiel’s fingers tangled into his hair, and he kissed Dean’s forehead, trying to offer his comfort where he knew none could be had.  Dean sobbed into his neck, making ugly noises, but Castiel only help him closer.  “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

 “Stay with me until they come,” he whispered against Castiel’s skin, pulling back so that he could look into Castiel’s dark blue eyes.  He lifted his hand, stroking his fingers over the nymph’s face, his hand pausing over the tip of Cas’s pointed ear.  “Please,” he added.

 _I can go with you_.

“Of course, my love.  I’ll wait here, with you.  I won’t leave.”

Dean sniffed, nodding, and buried his face in Cas’s chest again.  “Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter and then the epilogue!


	14. Once We Start, We Can't Ever Stop

As Dean climbed out of the helicopter, legs wobbling a bit as he regained his balance on solid ground, he was struck in the side by a rapidly moving object.  He grunted, nearly falling over, and with a startled gasp he looked down to see his little brother’s head pressed into his side, under his arm.  Long, messy brown hair covered most of his face and Dean laughed, wrapping his arms around Sam and hugging him in return.

“Hey, Sammy,” he laughed, face lighting up with a bright smile.  Tears sprung to his eyes and he blinked them away, closing his eyes and burying his face in the teenager’s hair.  His arms tightened around Sam’s body and he pulled him closer, squeezing him as tight as he could.  He could feel his little brother’s entire body shaking, presumably from the fact that he was crying, and Dean squeezed him closer.  “Hey, buddy, I missed you too.  Don’t cry.”

“Thought you were dead,” he gasped, finally pulling away from Dean and wiping at his eyes.  His entire face was flushed red, and he looked so much like a little kid that Dean had to resist the urge to reach out and brush his tears away.  “You were gone so long, Dean.  I missed you so much, and then— they just gave up looking for you, and I thought— I thought—”

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean interrupted him, cradling Sam’s head in his hands and pulling the boy back into his chest for another bone-crushing hug.  “I’m here, okay?  I’m fine and I ain’t goin’ anywhere.  Quit crying… You’re gonna get me all choked up.”  He sighed, arms clasped tight around his brother.  He closed his eyes, letting himself get swept up in the moment, and he whispered, “I missed you too.”

“ _Dean!_ ” the high-pitched exclamation dragged Sam and Dean away from each other, and then Dean’s arms were full of another human being, his twelve-year-old half-brother’s gangly arms thrown around his neck.  Adam clung to him, and he laughed, ruffling the kid’s hair and giving him a tight squeeze.

“Hey, bud!  Aren’t you a bit old to be hangin’ off me like a monkey?” He asked.  Adam smiled brightly up at him, shaking his head and pressing his face into Dean’s stomach.

“I missed you!  You missed Thanksgiving, and Christmas too.  Mom said you prob’ly weren’t gonna come home, but Sam told me you’d find a way back.”

Dean laughed, slinging an arm over Sammy’s shoulder and patting his back.  “Well, Sammy’s smart, and he was right.  How could I ever keep away from y’all?”

Adam’s mom appeared beside them momentarily, finally catching up to her son after he had presumably rushed away from her to go see Dean.  She smiled when she saw Dean, leaning close and kissing his cheek.

“Oh Dean, dear, it’s such a relief to see you.”  Dean smiled back at her, letting go of her son and wrapping his arms around the woman.  He sighed happily, letting his eyes slip closed as her familiar arms wrapped around him.

“You too, Kate.  Can’t believe I made it back,” he breathed, then pulled back, turning to smile brightly over at Sam and Adam.  “Say, you guys hungry?  Because I am _starving_.”

Sam laughed, a happy sound, and he slung his arm around his older brother’s middle, beaming up at him.  He looked so god damn happy that it made Dean’s heart hurt, and he wrapped his arm around Sam’s side as well, patting the kid’s shoulder.  Fuck, had he missed him.  He leaned down and kissed his forehead, and Sam didn’t even bat him away.  He simply smiled back and squeezed Dean a little closer.

“There’s a diner down the road from here.  If it’s okay with Kate…,” he trailed off, looking towards Kate expectantly.  She smiled, reaching out to cup Dean’s cheek delicately.  He leaned into the touch ever so slightly.

“Of course, we’ll go right now.  It’s a celebration,” she smiled fondly at Dean, her gaze full of love, and Dean felt his heart tighten in his chest again.  He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed even Kate and Adam, but now that he was back with them, he couldn’t help but share in their joy.  He was happier now than he thought he’d ever been in his life, with his little brothers under his arms and the closest thing to a mom he’d ever had, standing there smiling at him like he hung the moon.

In between bites of greasy bacon cheeseburgers (and _fuck_ if they weren’t the most delicious burgers Dean ever ate in his life) Dean and his family shared happy chatter.  It was March of Sam’s senior year of high school, and he’d been accepted to pretty much every school he’d applied to.  He hadn’t committed to any yet, though, as he explained to Dean that he hadn’t wanted to make any big decisions until he knew exactly what had happened to his older brother.  He was probably looking at going to KU, simply because of finances and commutability, but now he was sure that he wanted to stay near home and near Dean.

The ride home was quiet.  Kate drove them back to her house, where Sam had presumably been staying for the past few months after Dean went missing.  Dean could tell that everyone was curious about how he’d survived for the past few months, but he was grateful that nobody was asking him questions about it.  He knew that the questions would come eventually, especially when the authorities and the press got involved, but for now he was happy not talking about it.  Thoughts of Castiel were still fresh on his mind, and he wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to explain any of his story without sounding like a complete nutcase.

“Dean?” Sam’s voice pulled him back into reality, and he turned sharply to look at his brother, smiling at the sight of him.  He still couldn’t get over how much he’d missed Sam in these past few months.  He hadn’t even realized before now how badly he’d craved his brother’s company.

“’Sup?”

“I asked you why you’re sitting so weird.  Are you okay?” His voice was full of concern, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared down at Dean’s legs.  His left one— the same which he had injured months before— was tucked awkwardly beneath his right, twisted at an angle that Dean realized now probably looked pretty unnatural.  He shifted in his seat, shaking his head.

“I’m fine, now.  I guess I forgot, I’m so used to it now, but I kinda broke my leg when my parachute failed.  I had to have it— I had to set it back and stitch it up myself.  It healed kind of wonky.”

He could feel Kate’s eyes on him in the rearview mirror, concerned, and when he looked back at Sam he saw that he was frowning.  He huffed, waving his brother off.

“It’s really nothing, Sammy.  I guess we can have a doctor take a look at it, but it really doesn’t bother me much anymore.  I can still walk fine, after all.”

“Dude, your left leg is a good 4 inches shorter than the other, at least.  Even if you say it doesn’t hurt now, that’s not okay.  You could get scoliosis.”

Dean shrugged.  “Then I’ll get it looked at, like I said.  Considering the circumstances, it healed up pretty good,” he frowned to himself as he ran his fingers over his leg.  “Got a nasty scar, though,” he chuckled.  Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What kind of break was it?”

“A— A compound fracture,” Dean said.  Sam’s jaw dropped.

“You set a compound fracture back yourself?  How?” He guffawed.  Dean shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Not sure.  I just… did.  I think I blocked it out, honestly.” He muttered.  It wasn’t exactly a lie.  He’d passed out almost as soon as Castiel had touched his bone to put it back in place.  Sam leveled him with a concerned look, but said nothing else.  Dean felt his cheeks burn, and he looked away, staring out the car window.  He hated lying to Sam like this, but he couldn’t tell him the truth.

Settling back into everyday life in the city wasn’t as easy as Dean had imagined it would be.  His sleep schedule was odd; he’d wake at three am some days, unable to get back to sleep, while other days he’d stay in bed until one o’clock before he’d wake.  No matter what he ate he seemed to get sick; even fruits and nuts from the supermarket made him queasy.  Sam insisted that it was because of the GMO, whatever that was, but Dean wasn’t so sure if it wasn’t something bigger than that.

After almost three full weeks of bumming around in bed, Dean knew that his sleep schedule should have been back on track.  His circadian rhythms, the doctor had called them after Sam and Kate forced him to go get a checkup, would take about 12 to 14 days to readjust.  But Dean found that, the more time he spent in bed, the more he wanted to stay in bed.  He didn’t eat because he didn’t want to be sick, and so he had no energy.  He spent most of his time in bed, pillow discarded on the floor because he couldn’t deal with the softness of it, staring at the wall and thinking of Cas.

He missed Castiel desperately.  The nymph was on his mind constantly, no matter how much Dean tried to think of other things.  His thoughts always wondered back to Castiel, back to his house in the woods, back to the time they had shared and the love they had forged.  Dean’s heart ached with every day that passed away from him, and he wasn’t sure exactly how he was supposed to stop the pain.

Kate was tolerant at first.  She loved him, and she could tell that he was having some trouble readjusting to life back in the city, but Dean knew that it wouldn’t last much longer.  She was a single mother after all, and she didn’t have the resources to waste on him lying around dead to the world all day.  She tried coaxing him from bed, promises that she would make him his favorite foods if he got up.  Sometimes he complied, but shuffling from the bedroom to the kitchen wasn’t such a big deal, especially when he did nothing but stare at the wall either way.

He never ate the food that Kate made anyway, because he knew it would make him sick.  Eventually she stopped baking for him.

Sam was worried.  At first he tried rousing Dean as well, forcing him out of bed and dragging him around town, to see his friends and to visit Bobby and to go to parties.  But he was never happy, and always tired, and eventually Sam gave up to.  He would sit with Dean, still, telling him about his school day and reading to him from his AP Lit books.  Sam had to read Slaughterhouse Five for his final term paper, and he’d read excerpts of the book for Dean everyday as he annotated it.

Dean enjoyed his brother’s company and his efforts to cheer him up, but he could never bring himself to focus long on what Sam was saying.  Even when Sam was telling him the most interesting things and reading him his favorite stories, he was distracted by thoughts of Castiel.  He’d sit for hours and think of him, wonder what he was doing in that moment.  Remember the way his lips felt, remember that he’d been real.  He’d clutch his hand-knit vest to his chest, nose buried in the fabric of it, and imagine that he could still smell Castiel in the fabric of it.  Really, the thing had been soaked with so many tears that it was impossible it smelled of anything but salt and tears.

Sam was reading Slaughterhosue Five to him again.  _“Billy invited Trout to his eighteenth wedding anniversary which was only two days hence. Now the party was in progress.  Trout was in Billy's dining room, gobbling canapés. He was talking with a mouthful of Philadelphia cream cheese and salmon roe to an optometrist's wife. Everybody at the party was associated with optometry in some way, except Trout. And he alone was without glasses. He was making a great hit. Everybody was thrilled to have a real author at the party, even though they had never read his books.  Trout was talking to a Maggie White, who had given up being a dental assistant to become a homemaker for an optometrist. She was very pretty. The last book she read was Ivanhoe.  Billy Pilgrim stood nearby, listening. He was palpating something in his pocket. It was a present he was about to give his wife, a white satin box containing a star sapphire cocktail ring. The ring was worth—”_

“Sammy?” Dean’s voice was quiet and hoarse, and it sounded like he was on the verge of tears.  He probably was.  But he never spoke anymore, so Sam stopped reading immediately, eyes trained intently on Dean’s face.  He swallowed thickly before asking.

“Yeah, De?”

“Do you… You’ve read the Greek myths, right?” He asked, voice trembling.  He wouldn’t meet his brother’s eyes.

“Um, a few.  Why?” He asked.  Dean swallowed, eyes squeezed shut.

“I just… I…,” he trailed off, words stuck in his throat.  He was shaking like a leaf, and when he felt Sam’s hand on his shoulder, a dam broke.  He sobbed, pressing his face into the sheets and letting his body shake.  Sam was frowning now, book set down in his lap, as he stared at Dean in shock.

“Dean, what’s the matter?  Come on, stop crying.  What’s going on?”

“Sammy, I can’t… You’ll think I’m crazy, but I’m not.  I’m not crazy,” he gasped, body still trembling.  Sam swallowed nervously.

“No, you’re not crazy.  What’s going on, Dean?”

Dean sniffed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat ominously.  He looked up at Sam, meeting his eyes for a moment before his gaze shifted away again.  “I wasn’t alone in the forest, Sam,” he whispered.  Sam’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What?”

“I wasn’t alone, Sam.  I had a… His name was Castiel.  He was a wood nymph.  He saved my life.”

Sam looked scared now.  He stared at Dean intently for a while, then finally nodded along with what Dean was saying.  “Um, right.  And what did _Castiel_ say to you?”

Dean huffed, annoyed, his face scrunching up in anger.  He moved away from Sam, glaring at him.  “Don’t talk to me like I’m nuts, Sam!  I’m not crazy, I’m being serious.  Castiel was real, and he saved my life.  I would have died in that forest, burned alive, if it weren’t for him.”

Sam gaped at him.  “Dean, come on.  You’ve got to know how crazy you—” he paused at Dean glare, scoffing and rolling his eyes.  “Okay, fine, not crazy.  You know how _unrealistic_ it sounds, what you’re saying.  You were hurt, Dean.  You were probably hallucinating.  There was nobody else out there in the forest with you.”

“No!” Dean was angry now, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself calm.  He huffed, shaking his head.  “I wasn’t hallucinating.  How do you think I could have fixed my leg on my own, Sam?  You saw the x-ray _now_ , and it was bad.  When it first happened?  My bone was sticking out at a ninety-degree angle.  If Cas hadn’t been there, I would have bled to death, Sam!”

“Okay, okay, calm down!  So… So if this Castiel guy was real, then how come nobody is looking for him?  Why haven’t we heard any missing person stories?  I looked it up, Dean— you’re the only one to go missing in Ouachita Forest for literal decades.”

“He lives out there, Sam.  It’s his home.  He’s a wood nymph.”

“Those don’t exist, Dean!”

“Yes they do!  They do!  They’ve got pointed ears and beautiful vines that grow all over their bodies, that curl around their legs and their torsos and all the way up to their necks.  And they’ve got flowers that bloom from their wrists and their chests when they’re happy, and wilt when they’re sad.  In the spring they’re skin glows and their vines grow green on their skin, and in the fall they wilt and get darker, but they’re still beautiful as ever.  They’re hundreds and thousands of years old, and when its warm out they like to sleep outside and make themselves look like trees, and they’re beautiful and kind and… And I loved him, Sam.  I loved him so much, but I had to leave him.  I had to come home, to you, but now I miss him and I don’t know— I don’t know what to do.”

Sam was quiet for a long time, but when he finally spoke again, his voice was quiet.  “You’re serious,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t make it up, Sam.  You know I don’t believe in this shit.  But I saw it with my own eyes.  I talked to him, I touched him.  I kissed him, Sam.  I loved him.  I still love him, and I hope,” he trailed off, words stuck in his throat.  He couldn’t bear the thought that Cas might not love him any longer.  He squeezed his eyes shut, body trembling again.  Sam reached out and touched him tenderly, and he blinked up at his brother, eyes swimming with tears.

“Dean, please don’t cry.  I can’t bear to see you hurting like this.  You haven’t left your bed for weeks, aside to use the bathroom and occasionally eat,” he sighed heavily, and Dean blinked up at him, unseeing through his tears.  He sniffled loudly as Sam continued.  “What can I do, Dean?  What do you need?”

“I miss him.”

Sam frowned.  “You… Do you want to go back to him?” He whispered.  Dean made a choking noise, but Sam wasn’t sure if it was a cough or a laugh.  Dean sniffed again, blinking hard to clear his eyes.

“I can’t leave you again, Sam.”

“Yeah, well you can’t exactly live like this either,” he mumbled.  Dean frowned.

“What if…,” he swallowed thickly, pausing for a long moment before he spoke again.  “What if you came with me?  I’d take you to meet him.  We could bring him home.”

“Dean…,” Sam laughed, because this was ridiculous. 

“Please, Sam.  I know I sound crazy; I know you don’t believe me.  But I’ll prove it to you, he’s real, I swear.”

“Dean…,” Sam started again, blinking hard and letting his eyes squeeze closed.  He let out a heavy sigh, sinking down low so that his chin was resting atop Dean’s head.  He reached out, grasping at Sam’s shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Please.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.  Sam sighed again, a broken noise escaping his throat as he pulled back, fingers stroking Dean’s hair back away from his face.  He’d never gotten a haircut, even after he came home, and his hair was getting disgustingly long.  

“Of course, Dean.  I just want you to be happy.”

»»-------------¤-------------««

“I can’t believe you talked me into this shit,” Sam screamed over the sound of the helicopter’s propellers, cursing under his breath as he peeked over the side and saw just how high up they were.  Dean gripped him by the arm, tugging him back, and made sure that the two of them were fasted tightly together.  Each wore a large backpack, equipped with enough food and water for the both of them to survive at least a week. 

They were approximately two minutes away from Ranger Check-In Base 10 over Ouachita Forest, where they would parachute in, check in with their names and expected check out time, and then set off on their hike.  Dean knew, after being picked up during his rescue, that it was almost a 20-mile hike from the Check-In base to Castiel’s home in the woods.  It would probably take them three or four days, considering that there were two of them this time.

But Dean was ready.

His heart pounded nervously in his chest, but this time, it wasn’t because he was flying.  As he jumped from the helicopter, Sam screaming shrilly in his ear the whole long way down, his heart pounded in his chest for a whole different reason.  He was on his way to see Castiel again.  He was going to see Castiel again.

It took three days to reach the clearing in the woods where he’d crash landed last time around, a little faster of a trek than Dean had imagined they would make.  He knew the area like the back of his hand, though Sam was unsure of Dean’s navigation capabilities.  He complained all the way, whining about the heat (It was mid-July, after all, and the Oklahoma heat was unrelenting).

They settled down for the night once they reached the clearing, and Dean began to prepare a fire.  They’d be having beans for dinner (“ _For the_ third night _in a row, Dean?  Really?”_ ) and Dean had sent Sam off to collect firewood, to keep him from annoying Dean very much.  He was already anxious enough at the prospect of finding Cas again, the last thing he needed was Sam complaining in his ear all day.

It was just because Sam still didn’t believe the whole story.  No matter how much Dean told him and shared with him, he remained convinced that it was all a fabrication of Dean’s imagination.

_“DEAN! DEEEAAANNNN!”_

And okay, that screaming certainly _was not_ a fabrication of Dean’s imagination.  He leapt to his feet, hand already on his back pocket, where his machete was clipped to his belt.  He ran through the dark forest, feet carrying him on their own accord to the source of the screaming.  He reached Sam in record time, jumping into a clearing where his brother was standing stock still, feet spread and arms held up in defense.

In front of him stood a dark figure, standing offensively a few feet away, bow and arrow raised in the air and pointed in Sam’s direction.  The figure seemed to falter when Dean leapt into the clearing, obviously unsure what to do now that there was a second person there.  Daringly, Dean stepped closer, hands reaching out towards the creature.

“Hey, let’s just all calm down here and put the weapons down,” he said easily, though he was already reaching back to grasp his machete, heard thudding in his chest.  He kept his eyes trained on the figure before him, and a moment later, the clouds split above and a strip of moonlight illuminated the creature’s face.  Dean’s breath caught in his throat.  “Wait— Cas?”

“Dean?” The voice was rough and deep and _yes_ , this was unmistakably Castiel.  Dean surged forward, throwing his arms around the nymph just as he began to set his bow and arrow down.  They embraced each other tenderly, pressing close and squeezing each other and tightly as possible.  Dean surged forward to kiss Castiel, peppering his lips with kiss after kiss, until finally Castiel pulled away.  He looked down at Dean in awe.

“Dean, my love,” he croaked.  “Am I dreaming?  What are you doing here?”

“I came back, Cas.  I couldn’t stay away.  I couldn’t live without you,” he whispered, and Cas’s long fingers cupped his cheek, warmth spreading against Dean’s skin wherever Cas’s fingers touched him.  “This is my brother,” Dean gestured behind him, turning and beckoning for Sam to step forward.  “He came with me.  I told him about you.”

Sam stepped forward tentatively, obviously unsure of himself.  Castiel wasn’t so unsure.  He released Dean and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Sam and embracing him in a wholehearted hug.  He even kissed his cheek, beaming down at Sam with nothing but affection in his gaze now that he knew who he was.

“Sam,” he whispered, and Sam didn’t even have the chance to be stunned that Castiel knew his name before he continued, “Dean has told me so much about you.  I’m sorry for holding you at arrow point like that, but I am not used to visitors in this part of the forest.  I did not know if you had ill intent against me.”

Sam said nothing.  He simply stared, now close enough to see Cas’s face; to feel his bare torso and the vines that grew all over it.  His mouth moved, no sound coming out for some time, before he finally found his words again.  “Holy shit.”

Castiel laughed, a happy sound, and pulled away from Sam.  Just as Dean had described, bright red and purple flowers had begun to bloom on the nymph’s chest and wrists, despite the lack of sunlight in the dark forest.  His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he shook his head as if amused by something.

“I believe that’s what your brother said the first time which he saw me, as well,” he turned back to Dean, looking at him adoringly, and pulled him close.  “Oh, Dean, how I have missed you.”

“I’m sorry, Cas,” he croaked.  Castiel nuzzled his cheek, sniffing him, and Dean leaned into the touch, breath hitching.

“No, don’t be.  I told you to go.  You needed to return to your brother,” he glanced over at Sam, then looked back to Dean, a watery smile on his lips.  “I never expected to see you again, though.”

“I need you, Cas.  You’re family.  We’re— we’re mates.  I never… I didn’t know what that meant, exactly, ‘til I left you.  I never knew pain like that before, not even when I was burning alive or when you set my leg back in.  I couldn’t function; I can’t function.  Not without you.”

Castiel’s smile could have lit up the forest.  In fact, Dean wasn’t sure, but he was almost certain that ye clearing around them suddenly had become brighter.  Castiel beamed at him, fingers stroking delicately over his cheek and down his neck.  But then his smile wavered, and his eyes become glazed over.

“You say this… and yet you do not intend to stay,” he stepped away from Dean, fists clenched at his sides almost angrily.  “Why have you come here if you don’t intend to stay?  Why would you toy with me like this, Dean?”

He was hurting.  His voice was strained, his face screwed up in what looked like physical pain.  “Really, Cas?  Reading my mind?  Not cool, man.”

“It’s hard not to, when you project your thoughts at me so violently,” he snapped, but his tone was more wounded than churlish.  He turned away, and in the moonlight Dean could see the tear tracks running down his face.  Dean stepped forward, letting his arms curl around Cas’s middle and pull him back into his chest.  The nymph resisted, but Dean pressed closer, nuzzling his cheek.

“Please, Cas.  I came here to ask you if you would come back with me.  I meant what I said; I can’t live without you.  I came here to get you.  To bring you _home_.”

“ _Dean_ ,” his voice was barely more than a whisper.  Dean pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his neck, nosing at his pointy ears.

“I’ve got a big backyard back home, Cas.  You can sleep outside when it’s warm, and when we go out you can use your magic to make yourself look human.  We can be together, Cas.  We can be happy.”

“We can be mates again?” His voice was soft and thin, like at any moment, he might break.  Dean smiled up at him, reassuring, and let his fingers intertwine with Castiel’s.  Warm vines twisted around Dean’s fingers, curling up his arms, and Dean felt his body light up electrically.  He beamed up at his nymph, and his nymph beamed right back.

“I’m not sure we ever stopped in the first place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been too long! But I promised myself and I promised YOU all that I would finish this story. So I hope that you guys liked it. If you're reading... PLEASE leave a comment. I'd really love to hear what you're thinking.
> 
> This story can also be found on my tumblr, smack-that-assbutt.


	15. Epilogue

**One Year Later**

Dean’s hands are dark with soil, his skin red from the sun as he digs plots in the garden behind his house.  He hums quietly to himself, a song he cannot identify but has been stuck in his head for days.  Once he deems the hole deep enough he reaches for the potted sapling he’s been meaning to plant, now standing at an impressive foot-and-a-half after a long winter of nurturing inside the house.

He hears someone moving behind him, but doesn’t turn.  He can tell it’s Castiel just by the sound of footsteps and the smell of him in the air; bare feet against the grass and ozone in the air.  Cas has taken a particular liking to peppermint shampoo lately- he spent forty minutes in the shampoo aisle sniffing every bottle before he finally settled on the peppermint (a thirteen dollar bottle of soap, mind you) and Dean could never say no to Castiel.  Not after everything.

“She’s grown strong,” Castiel notes, stepping closer and reaching out to thumb at the leaves of Dean’s sapling.  He sets it down in the hole and smiles up at Cas.  The sunlight silhouettes him like this, standing in the garden barefoot and wearing jeans and a white button down, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off the thin vines curling around his wrists and up his arms.  With a little bit of magic Castiel can easily make them look like simple tattoos rather than actual appendages of his body, but right now they are in the privacy of their own backyard so he doesn’t bother. 

“Yeah, looks like I’ve developed a bit of a green thumb,” he chuckles.  Castiel smiles brightly, eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches Dean bury the sapling with soil.  He wipes his hands on his jeans and stands, stretching lazily in the sunshine and wrapping his arms around Cas’s neck.  The nymph smiles and sidles closer to Dean, squeezing him around the torso and pressing a soft kiss to his chin.

“I’ve prepared lunch inside.  I followed one of the recipes you showed me… French onion soup.  Your recipe appears to be a simple variation of my own onion soup recipe.”

Dean smiles fondly and kisses Castiel gently again, squeezing his biceps and stepping away.  “I’m sure it tastes amazing, if you made it,” he chuckles, following after Castiel back into the house.  He moves slowly’ his leg has been bothering him today and he’ll probably need to take some medicine when he gets inside. 

“I’d like to sleep outside tonight.  I feel your sapling will want some company on her first night in the great outdoors.”

Dean nods.  Castiel does this sometimes when the weather is nice outside, or he needs some time along.  Dean bought this house a year ago because of the large size of the backyard, as well as the privacy it offered.  If Castiel was most comfortable sleeping outside, Dean only wanted the best for him.

“Well, it’s supposed to be a clear night, so if you want to sleep outside that’s fine with me.  You’re always welcome to join me in bed inside later, though.”

“Of course,” Castiel smiles, walking over to the stove and ladling some soup into a large ceramic bowl.  It looks delicious, and Dean’s stomach growls as Castiel pushes the bowl toward shim along with a spoon.  He smiles brightly at the nymph, spooning the food into his mouth and moaning at the savory flavor.  He notices the vines on Castiel’s neck flourish and curl around his ears, flowers blooming in indication of his happiness.  Dean grins, suddenly overcome by emotion, and sets his spoon down as he pulls Castiel close.

 “Marry me,” Dean murmurs against his lips.  Castiel nods, arms looping around Dean’s hips as he deepens the kiss.

“Yes.  Yes, my mate, yes,” he gasps.  Dean grins, kissing Castiel again, his arms tightening around the nymph’s waist.  He hums softly and closes his eyes, nosing at the vines crawling along Castiel’s neck and smiling against his skin. "I love you, Dean Winchester."

"Forever?" Dean asks and Castiel smiles fondly, his arms tightening around his waist as he presses a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. The vines on his arms twist and loop, tangling around Dean and growing along the human's own arms. Wrapped around Castiel, literally, he smiles and relaxes when the nymph cups his cheek and kisses him again.

"For as long as I have lived, I have never loved as deeply as I have with you, Dean Winchester. And for as long as I shall live, my heart will be yours and yours alone. Nymphs bond and mate for life, as humans marry, and I will be honored to spend the rest of my life with you."

Dean's cheeks are red as he smiles, but he shuffles closer to Cas, letting the nymph envelop him in his vines. He feels them creeping up along his back and up his neck, and when he smiles they bloom with flowers, bright pink and purple twining and joining with blues and whites to paint a perfect canvas across their skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished! Oh, I love you guys and thank you all for hanging on with me through this journey. I have loved this story since the moment I found the idea, and I have loved writing it every minute of the way. Thank you again for all of your support- I hope you all enjoyed this fic! Please comment and share your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm starting this new series which I hope to follow through with. I know I still have some other works that I need to finish (*cough*Let Loose*cough*) but I was really inspired by [this post](http://diminuel.tumblr.com/post/147763373075/smokejumperdean-trapped-in-a-raging-forest) on tumblr, and I just had to write something for it. 
> 
> I expect I'll try to update every Sunday, but please don't be angry if updates don't come! I tend to work slow sometimes.


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